


It Will Be Better This Time

by ThousandsOfWords



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dragons, Extended Fic, Extension fic, F/F, F/M, Fantasy, Gwyllgi, Multi, Quest, Retirement, Sexual Content, Witch - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-03-20 18:03:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 27,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3659859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThousandsOfWords/pseuds/ThousandsOfWords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The brothers have retired to a quiet life in the north. They have steady jobs, apartments, and cars. They can live like normal people and die like normal people. Or can they? "Normal" might be simple, but the hunting life has taken its toll and leaving it behind is impossible. Making the transition will be difficult and new friends don't make it easier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Social Skills 101

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally posted on supernaturalfanfiction.com, but I don't know what happened to that site... So here I am reposting. Thanks for checking in - this is my best fic so far and I hope you like it. Feedback is welcome! xoxo ~ToW

**Thursdays were never busy.** The musty, small-town pub had less than twenty people occupying its tables; one group was the regular, middle-aged male customers sitting at their regular table in the corner and the other was kids home from college. Every few minutes raucous laughter would echo off the walls. It felt like a fishbowl; he was looking at them from a world they would never understand. Sam continued to stack glasses and place them under the bar. This was the regular life. He was no lawyer, he had no house, he was an illegal immigrant, but this was the beginning of the peaceful retirement of which he had always dreamed. He would save up and buy a condo and a television and he would adopt a dog and make life his own. Bartending wasn’t easy but it gave him hope.

This small town was hope. The front door struck a bell when it was pushed open and a thin, chill breeze flowed inside. The woman that walked in was bundled against the cold, so Sam couldn’t recognize her, but the other patrons all paused to pass glances over her. The silence was uneasy before soft whispers from the college kids filled the air.

She approached the bar, sat on a stool, and began to unwrap herself. “My god is it cold out there!” she huffed, her voice muffled by her scarf.

“You bet,” he replied, “I think the forecast said something like minus thirty.”

She set her mittens, scarf, earmuffs, and parka on the stool beside her, balanced in a precarious pile. She had thick, dark brown hair that draped over her shoulders in soft curls. Her skin was smooth and tan, and her eyes rich hazel. She shook out her hair and folded her thin hands over the bar. “Really? I didn’t think it was that cold, but I’ll take it. Sambuca would sure warm me up!” she added with a wink.

Sam fetched two shot glasses from under the bar, hiding his embarrassment. He still hadn’t gotten the hang of degrees in Celsius…or the metric system at all. He always overestimated. He poured the liquor and pulled his lighter out of his pocket to set the surface aflame. The woman watched the flames eagerly, and he slid one towards her.

“Bottoms up,” he said and blew out the fire and downed the Sambuca. It went down easy and warmed the pit of his stomach.

“Mmm,” she murmured, “that was perfect.”

“Another?” he offered. She waved a hand at him.

“Not just yet.” She trained her intense eyes on him. “So you’re the new guy here, huh?”

He shrugged. She raised an eyebrow. “Honey I have been coming to this bar for six years and I notice when they hire a hot, new thing.”

Sam smiled bashfully and put the used glasses in a bin to be washed.

“Do you live in town?”

“Yeah. You?”

She laughed loudly, throwing her head back. “Oh, that’s funny. Yeah, yeah I do.”

Sam furrowed his brow. “Why is that funny?”

“Everyone here knows me. You would, too, if you weren’t a newcomer.”

So moving to a small town may not have been a good idea. The Winchesters had wanted something quiet and low-key, but it seemed that the community was so tight-knit that they were drawing more attention than they wanted. However Sam refused to move; he’d moved hundreds of times and this was going to be his home.

He shrugged. “I guess I have some learning to do.”

She extended a hand over the bar. “Vanessa Valentine.”

He hesitated before taking it. “Sam Winchester.” While he was hiding from federal authority it may not have been wise, either, to use his real name. But he was done with fake IDs and pretending to be people he wasn’t… In fact, he wasn’t entirely sure who he was.

“Another round! On me.” Vanessa winked, and he smiled.

Sam honestly hadn’t intended on hitting on Vanessa. Truly, she was very pretty, but his interest in relationships in that point in time wasn’t acute. He still hurt from previous women he’d loved and lost over the years…which was all of them. He’d never been able to simply be with a girl and be happy. When Vanessa was obviously getting tipsy she kept touching his arm and complimenting his jawline. Sam knew he was only interesting because she didn’t know him, so he humoured her while he worked. When it came time to close up the other patrons left respectfully, but she did not.

“Where do you live?” she asked as he cleared crumbs from the tables.

“Around the corner,” he answered vaguely

“I live on Westwood. 323 Westwood.”

“I don’t know where that is.”

Vanessa surprised him by looping her arm through his. “Why don’t I show you?”

He looked down at her. “Um.”

She pouted and drew patterns on the back of his hand. “Come on. You’ve lived here for a little while, and what do you do? You come to work every day and then go home every day and go to work again? It can’t hurt to have a little company.”

_You’re more my brother’s type_ , Sam thought with a twinge of pity. He extricated himself from her and stacked a chair on a table. “Okay, just give me a few minutes.” It was true that he didn’t have much of a life outside of work – it wasn’t as though he knew how to have friends after a decade of isolation. The bar, the gym, his bed, and his brother’s weekly visit were his life. What was the harm?

Before locking the doors, Sam threw on his jacket and helped Vanessa into hers. He was a bit surprised that she wasn’t wobbly after drinking so much. He followed her down the street; it was so windy and cold that it was impossible to have a conversation. Vanessa had a small bungalow on a side street. It was very quaint. Sam stamped his feet impatiently as she fumbled with her keys.

“Finally!” she exclaimed as they burst through the door, escaping the elements. “Close the door so the cat doesn’t get out.”

Sam pursed his lips. Cats…

It felt nice and warm inside; she must have left the furnace on, and rightfully so. Her furniture was sparse but tasteful. Sam wondered if she liked interior decorating but didn’t have enough company over to embellish the place. He took his coat and boots off and left them in the front hall. Vanessa went straight into her kitchen, throwing her outerwear on a chair, and came right back with a bottle of red wine.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” Sam asked with a weak laugh.

She frowned playfully at him. “Are you kidding? The party’s only started. Besides – you haven’t had hardly any!”

She pointed at the living room loveseat and he sat down as she poured the wine into two glasses. She sat beside him and snuggled right into his side so his arm was over her shoulder. She was small. He didn’t know if he was uncomfortable with the intimacy or not. He sipped the wine.

“How did you end up in this dinky town?”

He shrugged. “I just wanted to move away and start something new.”

She looked up at him with those big eyes. “I admire that, I really do. You know, I wanted to be a graphic designer as a teenager, but my parents kept saying there was no money in it. Now I’m a real estate agent. There’s so much paperwork. I sometimes wish I could go back.”

His fingers absentmindedly played with her hair. It was cool and soft. “Yeah. I wanted to be a lawyer. I think it’s a bit late for that.”

“Why?”

Sam clenched his jaw. This was it. The test. He hadn’t had to tell the lie before, and he didn’t want to tell it, but he had to have it ingrained in his head. “I had to drop out and help my dad with the family business,” he explained. His voice was flat.

“What, bartending?” she snickered.

He waved his hand. “It’s all in the past now.”

She placed her wineglass on the coffee table slid a hand over his chest and he stopped breathing. It had been so long since anyone had touched him like this. “I’m glad you came here,” she whispered in his ear. A familiar ache formed in him, but he was afraid. The faces of Jessica and Sarah and Ruby flashed through his head.

Vanessa sat up. “You look tense. You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” But he wasn’t really fine, not really.

She put her palm on his cheek and made him look her in the eyes. “Relax,” she said quietly before pressing her lips against his. His mind slowly emptied, and she guided him to her bed.


	2. Routines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter: Dean.

**The shop was pretty cold so Dean had to wear gloves as he screwed and unscrewed different parts of the rusty car he was ‘fixing’.** The driver had come in complaining about a noise, but there was so much more than that. The boss had called it an ‘autodisaster’. Dean cursed the customer for neglecting it.

“Hey Dean, how’s trix?” The boss, T, strolled over from the office. He was a stout, middle-aged man with a scruffy beard, a red nose, and permanently dirty fingers.

Dean just groaned from under the car.

“Yah, I know the feeling.” His gruff voice didn’t show a whole lot of sympathy. “But that’s what it is with this Canadian weather and between the idiots that don’t take care of their cars and the temperatures these cars just can’t take it.” He tapped the hood of the car Dean was under with his knuckles.

Dean didn’t think the man liked him in particular but just liked to hear himself talk, and since Dean didn’t say much he became the favourite employee.

“We’re gonna grab a beer from George’s after shift, why don’t you come?”

Dean rolled out. “Nah, but thanks.” T looked a bit crestfallen so he added, “Take a rain check.” Every Friday he drove to the next town over, Garistown, to see his brother. Since crossing the border they felt more isolated than ever; they only had each other. And Cas. But Cas was always doing one thing or another and never stuck around for more than a couple of days. It felt like he was a reoccurring guest star in their drama series. He was impossible to keep track of. Cas had been family, but now…? So to stay sane Dean visited Sam every Friday for a few drinks and chit chat.

The afternoon wore on. The shop didn’t have many customers, thankfully, so the doors stayed closed and kept what little warmth there was inside. Sam had urged Dean to get a decent, honest job. But Dean hadn’t gone to college and didn’t have any marketable skills. He was depressed inside and aggressive on the outside. In what world would anyone hire him? When Sam suggested a repair shop it had taken Dean a couple of days to accept it. Yeah, he had worked on the Impala a lot. It was a good fit. The tinkering helped; his mind was always churning. What was that he heard in the back room? That was why the Impala had been so important – but now she was gone, and tampering with other people’s cars was the replacement. Which was okay. As long as he kept chugging along and didn’t think too hard about shadows or the sound of the wind.

Five o’clock came and Dean packed up his tools.

A thin man stood by the door. “Are you sure you don’t want to join us?”

Dean shook his head. “Things to see, people to do,” he joked.

“Alrighty. Have a good weekend.”

Dean waved to his boss as he headed out the door. His jacket wasn’t as warm as he would have liked, but he was too lazy to go buy a new one. His apartment wasn’t very far. He crossed the road and headed south, and crossed three more streets. The benefit of small towns was that it never took very long to get anywhere. After five minutes Dean opened the door to a grey, three-storey building. Sam had wanted to help him pick a nice place but Dean was bent on getting the cheapest. If they had to move again why bother with high rent?

The apartment was drab with as little furniture as Dean could manage. A TV, a couch, a kitchen table with two chairs, a bed, a nightstand. Dean wasn’t one for settling in. The last time he had had a real home was over thirty years ago – excluding that year with Lisa, but he tried very hard not to think about that.

He grabbed a microwaveable dinner from the freezer and popped it in the microwave. Sam wouldn’t be working at the bar until six-thirty so Dean had an hour to kill. After munching on the fake mashed potatoes and pork he stripped and got in the shower. He didn’t mind being covered in grease, but Sam would probably say something about hygiene if he didn’t wash up. The steamy water was welcome. He shivered with pleasure. It  _was_ Friday – would he pick someone up at the bar? Just the thought aroused him. He didn’t get excited about much anymore but he trailed his fingers between his legs anyway. He had to perk up his mood somehow… He chuckled as he started to stroke himself – it was a sacrifice he was willing to make. The rest of the hour went by quickly.

It was six-fifteen. Dean went down to the parking lot behind the building. A dull, red Dodge Neon taunted him. It was not a good car. He got into the front seat and jammed the key into the ignition, hoping it would start. What a stupid car. He pulled out of the lot and headed for Garistown.


	3. Tense Relationships

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey I've had 6 hits so far! :D It's pretty cool that you guys are actually interested in the story. It gets juicy from here on in.  
> I'm sorry about the formatting - I don't really have the patience to make sure that it's consistent from chapter to chapter. I think it's going to be double-spaced instead of single-spaced from now on.

**Sam spotted Dean’s shoulders hunched over the bar as he came in for his shift**. Thankfully Fridays were his early nights; he got out around ten so he could spend some time with his brother. He also noticed Dean was nursing a beer.

 

“Hey, Dean.”

 

“Heya, Sammy.” Dean was always happy to see him. That usual smile of “you are one of the few people on this Earth I like being around” crept onto his lips.

 

Sam walked to the back to log into the main computer and came back out. “How long have you been here?”

 

Dean shrugged. “Less than ten minutes.”

 

Dean looked pretty ragged. He clearly hadn’t shaved in days and there were heavy bags under his eyes. Sam knew all of this was difficult. He felt guilty for a second; he had insisted they live in different towns, but maybe Dean needed him close.

 

 _No,_ he reassured himself. _He’s fine. We’re both doing okay. We just need a rhythm._ But this was the rhythm.

 

“How’s things?” Sam organized glasses behind the counter. At its busiest the bar attracted twenty or thirty people. Right now were only the two of them and one man sitting in the corner watching a highlight reel of the hockey game.

 

“Things are good, things are good.” He sipped his Coors. “Mr. Henry’s old Mustang isn’t holding up this winter.”

 

“That’s too bad. She’s a beauty.” Another pang of guilt for selling the Impala. He glanced out the window at the heap of junk Dean had now.

 

“Yeah, well, he never deserved her.”

 

“Some people just don’t know how to treat the pretty ones,” Sam joked. The small talk killed him. Every week was the same thing for the last two months; Dean really needed this. He was still Sam’s best friend and the only person he could trust – which was saying a lot – but Sam wondered if he was pulling away, and if Dean was fading. Should they move in together? So Sam could keep an eye on him?

 

“…and those callipers, man, they should have been replaced years ago.”

 

“Mhmm.” Sam walked over to the other man to ask if he needed another beer. The man agreed enthusiastically, complaining about the Habs. Sam didn’t know anything about the hockey league so he just laughed.

 

“Is this it, Sammy?” Dean was suddenly very serious and looked close to tears. “Is this the apple pie life?”

 

Sam sat on the stool next to him and patted his brother on the shoulder. “We’re getting there, buddy. We’re about fifteen years too late to hop on the bandwagon but we’re getting there. We’ll get there.” Who was he convincing? Was he trying to soothe his brother’s anxiety or tell himself he was doing the right thing? Sam now spent a lot of time resenting his father. If only he had taught them how to be normal people.

 

Dean only took another gulp, finishing that bottle. Sam got up to fetch another for him.

 

Two young women entered the bar. Dean leaned over and said softly, “I get the brunette,” and laughed.

 

Vanessa sat on a stool and turned to him. “I heard that. And you get what you get.” Her stare was steady but not cold.

 

Beside Vanessa was a woman with flowing golden locks and piercing green eyes. When she took off her coat Sam could see her skin was extremely pale. She wore a black cotton sweater that outlined her slim form. She looked almost as slim as Vanessa, who, Sam noticed the previous night, was incredibly tiny. But the way this new girl carried herself she didn’t seem fragile in the least.

 

Vanessa winked at Sam. “Who’s this? Your friend? Your _lover_?” Her tongue caressed the word slyly.

 

“Dean,” Dean said, extending his hand. “It’s a pleasure.”

 

As they shook hands, Sam rolled his eyes. “My brother.” He didn’t like that he’d had a night with Vanessa Valentine and Dean was trying to pick her up. He would have to find a way to mention that he didn’t like sharing.

 

“Well, well. A brother.” Vanessa let go of Dean’s hand and gave him a once-over. “This here,” she said, gesturing to her blonde companion, “is Foxy.”

 

Foxy nodded. “It’s always nice to meet friends of Vanessa’s.” Sam thought he heard sarcasm but he dismissed it.

 

Dean leaned forward. “Welcome to The Barber. What’ll you have? First round on me.”

 

Vanessa was eager to start boozing. It was Friday, she’d just closed a great sale, and she was in a great mood. Her friend, Foxy, was more reserved but certainly energetic. As Sam waited tables and poured drinks the three of them talked and got to know each other. He noticed Dean was touching Vanessa’s arm, and Vanessa laughed a lot. It wasn’t a good feeling.

 

As soon as Sam was done work at nine o’clock he grabbed a beer and sat with them in a booth they’d moved to.

 

“…and you know how _those folks_ are.” Vanessa sat with Dean on her left side and Foxy across from her. Her face was pouted with disgust and she tapped her fingers on the table.

 

Foxy sighed and rolled her eyes. “You would think that she couldn’t get any more judgemental _or_ racist since high school, but she amazes me every day,” she whispered to Sam while Vanessa kept talking. He smiled.

 

The drinks kept coming. The two girls kept the conversation going; neither Sam nor Dean were good with company, and with so many secrets they didn’t feel comfortable saying much. Foxy had met Vanessa in high school and they’d been friends on and off ever since; they both moved back to Garistown, their hometown, after college. Now they saw a lot more of each other. Foxy’s expression said it all: Vanessa was someone that should only be taken in small doses. Foxy was the editor of a fashion magazine. Sam happily sat back listened to the small talk and banter.

 

The more they drank the merrier they felt. By midnight they were laughing heartily and making plans to see one another the following Friday.

 

“I think it’s time for me to get going,” Vanessa slurred, looking at her golden wristwatch.

 

“Yeah? It’s only midnight…” Dean looked a bit concerned.

 

She shrugged and grabbed her fluffy parka from beside her on the bench. “I have stuff ta do tamorroh.”

 

“Then I’ll walk you home.”

 

The two of the slid out from the booth. As Dean helped her with her jacket, he winked slyly at his brother. Sam hadn’t gotten the chance to explain that he wasn’t up for sharing sex partners, but it didn’t seem important anymore.

 

Sam watched them go out the door – leaving him with the tab, he noticed – and he rolled his eyes.

 

Foxy put a hand on his arm. “Don’t worry. She’s just like that.”

 

“Hm?”

 

“She sees a hot guy and wants to fuck. It’s nothing personal. Although taking the brother home within twenty-four hours may be a new record…”

 

He half-chuckled.

 

“Lighten up! Be honest with me. Have you never had a one-night stand and then ditched her for her sister or friend later?”

 

He tapped his fingers on the table. “I’m not really the promiscuous type.” Sure, he’d had his fair share, but thinking of his sex life made him feel guilty.

 

Foxy felt the tension and waved the waitress over. “Can we get some nachos over here?”

 

“So what’s Foxy a nickname for anyway?” he asked.

 

“Who said it’s a nickname?” she challenged.

 

“What, your parents named you Foxy? That’s unfortunate.”

 

“And your parents named you Samuel. I don’t see what the difference is.”

 

 _Yeah, I really lost the lottery on parents of the year,_ he thought sourly as he sipped his beer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've written up several chapters, until then the plot has been determined, but comments and suggestions are absolutely welcome :)  
> 


	4. Excitement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Sexual Content! NSFW if someone is looking over your shoulder ;)

**Cold cold cold cold – it was so cold.** And he was so hot hot hot hot. It would be so much better if there were apartments above the bar. The wind whipped her hair around. Good god why did she live in Canada? She probably belonged in California where it was sunny and sandy and sunny… Imagine the real estate possibilities, too! She could be one of those agents on television that sold multi-million-dollar homes. She was almost drooling. Another round of wind made her feel even bitterer.

 

Dean had his arm around her waist. He was tall and rugged and reeked of sex appeal. She wondered if he was a man that had a lot of sex but didn’t know where the G-spot was. Or, even worse, where the clitoris was. Sam was fun; he didn’t take his time but he knew all the right spots to touch, tweak, and lick. They fucked quick and hard, and Vanessa wondered if Dean would be the same.

 

Some people thought she was cold and heartless. Some people thought she had Daddy Issues. She didn’t understand why she was demonized when it was perfectly acceptable for a man to sleep around. They were just jealous. She knew how to charm a man with a nice push-up bra and skinny jeans and a few generous words about his manhood. They were stuck trying to fit into traditional roles of modesty and they were missing out on a hell of a lot of fun.

 

She pulled her keys out of her coat pocket and fumbled with them at the door. She hoped the cat wouldn’t run out. There was no way she wanted to go looking for a runaway at this time of night in this weather. She slipped inside quickly and he followed.

 

“Fucking cold,” he grumbled, taking his hands out of his pockets and stamping the snow from his shoes.

 

Vanessa was quick. She stepped forward, took his hand, and slipped it into her back pocket. “Better?” Her smile was devious.

 

Dean caressed her ass. “Oh yeah.” His other hand lifted her chin so he could kiss her. His lips were soft and he was gentle.

 

 _Oh_ , she thought, surprised. He was so…gentle. And careful. His stubble brushed against her but she didn’t mind. She wanted to tangle her fingers in his hair but broke away from him instead to toss her jacket, boots, and hat on the floor. He followed her lead and they hurried to the couch. Dean pressed her down underneath him and immediately began kissing her lips, her neck, sucking on her earlobe. Her hands traveled up and down his back.

 

“Mmm…” Both of them moaned and their breathing became heavier. Vanessa could feel Dean’s abs beneath his sweater and all she could think of was licking them all the way down, down, down… She yanked his shirt up and off. God he was sexy! Dean also removed her shirt, but he didn’t yank or rip. He tenderly traced his fingers down her neck to her collarbone. Vanessa could read his thoughts through his eyes: _You are so beautiful, how did I end up here with you?_ She ignored his moment of sensitivity and pushed him off of her.

 

She stood up in front of him. She swayed her hips back and forth and wore a wide, naughty smile on her face. She slowly undid the button on her jeans and slowly pulled the zipper down. She turned around and slowly slid them over her hips, her thighs, her calves, her ankles. Her bra and panties were lacy and grey, but since they hadn’t bothered with lights those details were lost. She bent over so he could get a full view of the ass he was about to get.

 

“Holy shit.”

 

She turned back around and spread his knees apart before kneeling between them. She liked to be in control and she could see that he liked it, too. Her hands glided up and down his thighs. He was hard. She teased him by pressing her tongue against where his head would be.

 

“Oh god, oh god,” he whispered, twining his fingers in her hair. His hips stretched forward.

 

“Do you want it?”

 

“Yes…”

 

“How much?”

 

“Very much…”

 

She got up and straddled him, kissing him hard and pressing their tongues together while rocking her hips back and forth. His hands were squeezing her ass. Suddenly he lifted her off of him and he undid his jeans, taking them off as well as his boxers. He was stark naked except for socks. And she was not disappointed in his physique. The pit of her stomach roiled with desire.

 

She pushed him on his back and climbed on top again, immediately reached for his cock while she licked and sucked on his nipples. If there was one thing she knew it was that men’s nipples were sorely neglected. He shivered and groaned loudly beneath her. He thrust into her hand, but she let go. She grabbed his hand and put it between her legs.

 

“Make me nice and wet,” she told him quietly.

 

He obliged. He pushed her panties aside and teased her entrance. She smiled between moans. But he also started stroking himself with his other hand (a very talented multi-tasker) so she pulled her underwear off completely, moved his hand away, and hovered her pussy right over his cock so he could feel how warm and wet she was for a moment before sheathing him. Both of them cried out with relief, but lust overcame them and Vanessa rode Dean hard and fast.


	5. Friends?

**Foxy liked Sam.** He was modest and caring. She also felt bad about Vanessa screwing his brother; sometimes she really had no taste. It bothered her that she always scoped out the attractive men, too – more than once Foxy found herself liking Vanessa’s sloppy seconds, but knowing they’d been with her was a turn off. She liked V but they were almost twenty-five. Was she going to keep doing this for the rest of her life?

 

She and Sam had said goodnight at closing time. He had offered to walk her home but she’d told him it wasn’t far and not to worry. She put her number in his smartphone. Everyone needs a friend and she sensed that he didn’t have any here.

 

“Sam and Dean, Sam and Dean…” She repeated their names once she got into her house. Something about those names was familiar but she couldn’t put her finger on it. She put the kettle on and curled up in an armchair while she waited for it to boil.

 

Her house was very nice and typical for Garistown residents. It was two storeys tall with four bedrooms, two full and two half bathrooms, and a gorgeous basement. Vanessa had talked her into buying it. Foxy hadn’t wanted a large house especially if she was living alone, but her friend had said that investing in this property would be a great decision. She wasn’t wrong; in just a couple of years it was appreciating fast, and being the head editor of a successful magazine it wasn’t as though she couldn’t afford it. She’d thought about renting part of it out to a tenant or two, but the idea of strangers in her home was disconcerting… So it was just her and 1,800 square feet. And her dog.

 

Duke padded up to her with his tail whipping back and forth at mach nine. His face was split in a wide, goofy grin and she leaned forward to hug him. Golden retrievers were wont to be too excited but Foxy wouldn’t have it any other way. Duke was a rescue dog – when she’d adopted him he wouldn’t look her in the eye. From the starved, terrified animal she’d brought home a year ago he had come a long way and just thinking about his previous life made her well up.

 

“We might just have new friends,” she told him. “I bet you’d like someone new to play with, wouldn’t you?”

 

His entire body wiggled at the sound of her voice. He sneezed.

 

“Yeah! And maybe they have doggies they can bring here.”

 

The kettle clicked off in the kitchen. Duke followed her and she poured herself a mug and left a teabag in the hot water to steep. She was about to go back to the living room when her phone buzzed.

 

 _Sam’s number_.

 

She saved the number into her contacts. _Thanks!_

 

Sam… Sam and Dean… Dean Dean Dean… Her gears were grinding but she just couldn’t figure out why those names were ringing bells. She’d never known a Sam and Dean, had she? Certainly no one in town.

 

_Made it home ok?_

 

She smiled at her screen. _Safe and sound. You?_

 

It had only been thirty seconds since she’d left the teabag but she was already impatient to drink it. Waiting for tea was one of her least favourite things, so she usually got hers from Tim Hortons. That way she only had to drive back home and it would be ready.

 

_Yes thanks. :)_

 

Wow, a smiley face.

 

 _We should do this again sometime._ Maybe she shouldn’t have pressed send. Did that sound like she was asking him on a date? That wasn’t her intention (although she wouldn’t have a problem with that, either). But she’d had a nice night. She was so busy with her career that she didn’t have time for friends, and spending so much time with Vanessa was getting on her nerves. She hoped Sam wouldn’t mistake her tone. She began to sip her tea even though it was still really watery.

 

_Definitely. I had a good time with you._

 

That was good. She took her phone with her into the living room but didn’t reply; she didn’t know what else to say to him without coming off as flirty. She switched the TV on and began to scroll through her recordings. Her phone vibrated again.

 

_I can’t sleep._

 

Oh… So he was going to be the flirty one? Or was he just bored?

 

_I’m watching TV._

_Anything good on?_

 

Foxy was used to men advancing on her. Every once in a while she would find one she liked and would reciprocate, but she didn’t take courtship very seriously. More often than not she was disappointed in the man’s lack of commitment when he only thought of her a sex object. Sam, though attractive and funny and smart, was no different from anyone else. She would play the flirting game only as long as it took to find out he wasn’t interested in her soul.

 

_Not really. Keeping Up With The Kardashians re-runs?_

 

It was a few minutes before another text.

 

_Want some company?_

 

She wasn’t lonely… But he might have been. She looked at Duke. “What do you think? Are we up for it?” He only stared at her. She shrugged.

 

_Sure. Where are you?_

 

She found herself paying more attention to her phone than the television.

 

_Smith Drive._

 

Oh, he was only one street over! They were practically neighbours. _33 Confederate Court. Come over._

Duke was fiercely protective of Foxy around strangers. If Sam turned out to be a rapist Duke would surely put him in his place. If not, she could take care of herself… She opened the coffee table drawer to make sure the dagger was still there. She’d only had to use it once, but that was once too many.

 

The dog bugled at a knock at the door, scrambling on the laminate floors to get to the front hall. Foxy tried to shush him but he was just too worked up so she grabbed his collar before opening the door.

 

As soon as he had room to come inside he dropped on his knees and offered his palms to Duke. He sniffed them warily for a moment before planting wet kisses on the man’s cheeks. Sam buried his face in Duke’s neck and rubbed him all over.

 

“Hey buddy! Hey there! Hello!” he said over and over.

 

“You’re a dog person?”

 

He looked up as if he’d forgotten she was there. “A little,” he said bashfully, rising to his feet. “What’s his name?”

 

Foxy reached for his jacket. “Duke. He’s about four years old.”

 

Duke darted into the living room and bolted back with a plushie in his mouth.

 

“Well now you have no choice!” she joked as she put his coat in the closet. But he was already tugging at the toy, riling Duke up for a game of tug o’ war. He was enthralled.

 

Foxy went into the kitchen and put the kettle on boil again while the boys played. _The dog stole my date!_ she thought to herself with a chuckle. When she came back Sam was leaning against the wall and Duke was bouncing up and down trying to get his attention.

 

“I got a little carried away,” he explained.

 

Foxy laughed. “Oh gosh, you’re welcome to wear him out. Maybe he’ll calm down then.” She invited him to her couch in front of the TV. “I’m boiling the kettle. Tea or coffee?”

 

Sam sat down beside her. “Coffee, thanks.”

 

The kettle clicked again so she got up. “Do you have a dog?”

 

“Uh, no. I’ve never been able to really have a dog, but I love them.”

 

“Cream and sugar? Why not?”

 

“Just sugar, please. My family moved around too much.”

 

She reached into the cupboard and scooped two teaspoons of sugar. She hoped it wasn’t too much…or not enough. She came back and set the mug on the table beside her tea.

 

“Thank you,” Sam said as she sat back down.

 

“Well, Sam, you are totally welcome to my guy whenever you need a furry friend.”

 

He laughed and she laughed and Duke barked because no one was playing with him.

 

“I will definitely take you up on that, considering we live two minutes from each other.” Sam rested his arm over top of the couch and Foxy felt his fingers skim her hair.

 

She bristled. “Well, I’m not home too much, but yeah, neighbour, we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.” Was this a bad idea? Was Sam a stalker? She felt annoyed that maybe he was a real creep.

 

He gestured at the TV. “Alright. So what are the Kardashians doing this time?”

 

\--

 

Her neck ached. It was at such an awkward angle she had to move. But she wasn’t in her bed… Her memory snapped to attention. She was leaning against Sam’s shoulder, still on the couch. It was still dark out, but in winter that could have mean four o’clock or seven o’clock. Her heart caught in her throat for a second before she calmed herself down. It was innocent – they’d fallen asleep watching bad reality television, and nothing had happened, and nothing was wrong. She looked at her watch. Six-thirty. She wasn’t about to go back to sleep so she quietly got up and went in the kitchen to make breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bit lame. Sorry. Just setting the scene! It gets very tumultuous very quickly!


	6. Cas...?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter: Our favourite angel.

**Everything was a goddamned disaster.** Absolutely everything. It was wet, snowy, dark and Castiel was lost, cold, confused. He crouched down and sat against a concrete wall. These nights his trench coat doubled as a blanket.

 

_Father…_

 

He started to pray but stopped himself. God had to be out there somewhere. Not dead, not turning a blind eye. He had to be out there. Castiel found himself asking for his Father’s help pretty often now, but nothing changed. There was still no help even though he really, really needed it.

 

He shivered. Should he go to a homeless shelter again? Where was the nearest one? Where was he? It was still Canada. Still Ontario. Still the GTA. He pulled out his pay-as-you-go cell phone, but it was out of battery. The Winchesters probably weren’t too far away; he was with them a month ago. Maybe they’d let him stay with them for a little while again. He looked at his other options: stay in the alleyway, go to a shelter, spend the last of his money on a motel, or find the Winchesters. Considering he had spent the last week homeless he wasn’t eager to continue the pattern.

 

“Castiel.”

 

A woman stood on the sidewalk a few feet away peering into the shadows. She was tall with broad shoulders and heavy boots.

 

“Analise.” Cas recognized her from her thick, bushy hair and deep voice.

 

Analise stepped forward hesitantly. “What are you doing here?”

 

He felt pathetic curled up under his jacket. He shrugged. “I don’t have a place to stay.”

 

“Get up.”

 

He stood up and draped his coat over his shoulders.

 

“You have a place to stay and that’s with me,” she asserted, taking his elbow and guiding him down the street. “You should have asked. You shouldn’t be exposing yourself to this in your condition.” She stared down at him with eyes that could shatter glass.

 

He shrugged again. He didn’t like asking for help.

 

Analise was an angel he could count on. She was strong, loyal, caring, and aggressive. When she was on Earth her chosen vessel got a lot of negative attention for her dark skin and heavy build but she liked it. Castiel agreed that it suited her.

 

They didn’t talk on the way to Analise’s motel. The walk was only twenty minutes but it felt like forever to the malnourished, damp angel. He kept his head down and let Analise direct him. The giant, neon sign read HOME AWAY FROM HOME. Analise pulled a chain of keys from her pocket and directed Castiel to a door.

 

“I’ll be at the front desk. Tell me if you need anything. Get some rest.”

 

“Thank you,” he said weakly as she ushered him inside.

 

He stripped of his wet clothes and collapsed on the double bed. Sleep was immediate.


	7. I Don't Fucking Think So

**Everything was great, or so it seemed to be for now.** Friends and cheerfulness and conversation… The list went on for things he wasn’t good at. But he seemed to be getting by just fine. Duke helped; when he didn’t know what to say he just scratched the dog behind the ears. Foxy worked eight-hour days in the city, but when she came home to Garistown Sam spent his evenings at her house. After they accidentally spent the night together she was really cool about it and he spent most of Saturday with her, too.

 

On his way out the door he had even asked her to go on a date. “Um, hey. Let’s go out. Next week.” Albeit not gracefully but she nodded and said, “Sure.”

 

She was kind and tolerant and Sam really enjoyed her company. Their ‘date’ had been dinner at Kelsey’s in the mall on Monday – not fancy at all and probably a poor choice – and she had a good time and still hung around with him.

 

It was Thursday and Sam was in Foxy’s kitchen helping her make spaghetti and meatballs for dinner. She could cook and if there was any reason not to spend the night alone in his apartment it was for her wonderful food.

 

“How was your day at The Barber?” She squelched raw beef, eggs, and spices between her fingers in a mixing bowl.

 

“Eh.” He pulled plates out of the cupboard. “No one was really there today.” He didn’t like working days; between eleven and five there was a shortage of customers. “What about your day?”

 

“Busy busy busy as usual,” she sighed. “There isn’t enough time in the world to deal with all of the people I deal with.” She nodded towards the doorway were Duke lay attentively watching them. “He’s the only reason I come home at all some days!” She wadded the meat into balls on a baking sheet.

 

“Well I can take him right off your hands if you need me to. Just say the word.”

 

Even tied back in a ponytail Foxy’s hair still reached her shoulder blades. She wore an apron over a little purple dress that hugged her every curve; Sam thought she looked so sexy. All he wore was a plaid button-up and jeans. He had burned his FBI-impersonation outfits and right now he regretted it.

 

His phone rang loudly in his shirt pocket. He set the dishes down on the table and picked it up.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I’m looking for John–” An unfamiliar male voice came through the receiver but Sam cut him off.

 

“John Winchester is dead and I can’t help you.”

 

“I know I–”

 

Sam flipped the phone closed, absolutely uninterested in some stranger looking for the Winchesters. They probably had a ghost or something and there were many other hunters that could look after it. He left the country for goodness’ sake.

 

He turned around to see Foxy leaning against the counter and glaring at him. She was wiping her hands on her apron.

 

“It was just–”

 

“A Winchester?” she hissed. “In my town? In my _house_? I don’t fucking think so.”

 

Sam froze. “Foxy–”

 

“Get out!”

 

“Wait, hang on–”

 

Foxy stepped forward, her eyes ablaze. “I worked too goddamn hard to have you sociopaths invade my life!” she cried. “Get the hell out!”

 

Sam stepped towards the doorway. “What are you _talking_ about?”

 

“ _Don’t play stupid with me, Winchester_ ,” she spat. “I know who you are.”

 

“Foxy, listen, okay, I can explain–”

 

She jumped forward and pushed him out of the kitchen. “ _GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE! NOW!_ ”

 

He hurried towards the front door and she stalked after him.

 

“Foxy, please–”

 

She shoved him outside and slammed the door closed. He heard the deadbolt click. He ran his fingers through his hair. What the fuck? What the _fuck_? He pounded on the door. “Foxy, let me talk to you,” he called.

 

No response.


	8. The Third Degree

**Foxy sank to the floor in the front hall.** She heard Sam calling from outside, but she wanted nothing to do with him. If there were people she dreaded meeting more than anyone else the Winchesters would certainly be near the top of her list. They weren’t hunters; they were murderous sociopaths with issues stacked a hundred miles high. It wasn’t fair that they came here to her home where she worked too hard to have those disasters stumble in and ruin everything. They would! They would ruin everything!

 

She burst into tears. She hugged her knees to her chest and sobbed until she felt sick. Her anger and fear ebbed into dull determination. She would chase them out of there if she had to. They had to leave. They couldn’t terrorize her haven the way they did in the United States. She picked up the phone.

 

“Mama,” she said as soon as her call was answered.

 

“Hi sweetheart, it’s good to hear from you,” greeted the gentle, elderly voice on the other end.

 

Foxy’s stomach dropped. “I think I’m in trouble.”

 

Mama Nia sighed. “What is it, baby?”

 

She swallowed nervously and took a deep breath. “The Winchester brothers came to Garistown. One of them was just in my house.” Tears began to prick her eyes again. “Mama, I’m scared. They can’t be here. Not after everything I’ve done.”

 

There was silence for a moment. “Do you need help?”

 

“No. I don’t know.” She sniffed. “I just want you to know who’s responsible if…if something…”

 

“Don’t talk like that Foxy,” Mama said sharply. “I’m going to call your brother Buck and he can stay with you.”

 

Foxy nodded speechlessly.

 

“I know you can take care of yourself, Tricks. But better safe than sorry.”

 

Tricks. It had been a long time since she’d been called that. “Yeah. Thanks, Mama.”

 

“You’re welcome, baby. Call me anytime.”

 

When she hung up Foxy’s hands were shaking. She felt restless; this very minute Sam could have been calling Dean and plotting her demise. She pulled out her hair elastic and let her hair fall over her shoulders in a heap. What a mess, what a mess.

 

Her phone rang. She answered it without checking the call display.

 

“Yeah?” she said breathlessly.

 

“We need to talk.”

 

Oh, it was Sam. That monster. “No, we don’t. Don’t call me again.”

 

“Look, whatever you think you know about me isn’t true.”

 

How long had they spent lying? Ten, twenty years? Their entire lives? Foxy hung up on him. Seconds later he called again, but she tossed her phone across the room to the couch, where it bounced and hit the floor.

 

Should she move? No, she’d spent years moving from place to place. She would stand her ground against them. She jumped at a pounding on her front door.

 

“If you don’t answer we’ll kick it in!” Dean shouted from outside.

 

“Just leave me alone,” she whimpered too quiet for anyone to hear but Duke.

 

More pounding. “Foxy let us in. We won’t ask again.”

 

The violent crackle and crash of splintering wood sent her skittering into her bathroom and locking the door. But her phone was in the other room. Duke barked madly. She reached for the window to slide it open and rip out the screen but they found her before she could make her escape. Both men advanced towards her.

 

“What do you want?” she cried.

 

“We just want to have a chat,” Sam replied, raising his hands.

 

Foxy bared her teeth in an animalistic snarl. “I want nothing to do with you.”

 

“What do you know about us?” Dean demanded.

 

“Enough to know that you’re lunatics!”

 

“Are you human?”

 

Foxy laughed darkly, bitterly. “I will call the police.”

 

“Can we please just sit down and talk?” Sam pleaded.

 

Dean pulled a huge knife from his back pocket. “You talk and you don’t get hurt.”

 

It took everything Foxy had to maintain control. There was fire in her gut, in her head, in her skin. She was fueled with fury the likes of which she hadn’t felt in years. They would shoot first ask questions later; if she attacked them they would stab her for certain. With their track record for vengeance she didn’t want to take the risk.

 

“Fine.”

 

Sam touched her shoulder gently and guided her into the living room and sat her in the armchair. They sat on the couch, leaning forward with intense attention. Her phone lay on the floor with the screen cracked. She couldn’t see Duke.

 

“What do you know?” Dean growled.

 

Foxy glowered at him. “The Winchesters. Dean, Sam, and John, the family knitted together by tragedy and bent on killing anyone unfortunate enough to be within a mile of them.”

 

They glanced at each other. Sam shook his head slightly.

 

“Who are you?” Dean, apparently was taking the role of interrogator.

 

“Foxy.”

 

“Don’t get short with us, missy. Foxy who?”

 

“Foxy nobody,” she snapped. “Legally I am registered as Foxy Lacern if you want to check up on my public history.”

 

“What about your private history?”

 

She dug her nails into the leather. “What about yours? You like to keep secrets, so why aren’t I entitled to mine?”

 

“Monsters aren’t entitled to anything.”

 

“Says the man who was a demon with his brother that had no soul. I _love_ how you play judge and decide who is a monster and who isn’t. I heard Sam was sleeping with a demon named Ruby; the only time it’s okay to let a non-human live is when they benefit you, right? You’re _disgusting_.”

 

Dean stood and towered over her. “This blade I’m holding is made of silver. You’d better quit being sassy right now.”

 

“Dean.” Sam made a face at his brother.

 

Foxy stared up at him. “Yeah, alright. Torture me. Cut out my eyeballs. I’ve heard that’s something you’re good at.” The flames inside of her were lapping right behind her eyes.

 

“Her eyes!” Sam exclaimed.

 

Shit. Her eyes were changing colour. She tried to cool herself down with a deep breath. Dean poised the knife to stab her.

 

“ _What are you?_ ”

 

She raised her hand to him, telling him to take a step back. He didn’t move.

 

“It doesn’t matter what I am. You need to back up.”

 

He hesitated, then took a pace back.

 

“You knocked two of my doors in. I work to maintain this house and you broke in like it didn’t matter. I don’t care if you think otherwise; I bought this property and I am the owner and you don’t have the right to barge in here whenever you see fit.” She looked between the brothers. “This is my home, and I don’t care if your home was taken from you. I am keeping mine. I am going to press charges for damaged property.”

 

“Hey, we don’t want any trouble here.” Sam’s face was one of understanding, but Foxy was having none of it.

 

She barked out a laugh. “Really? You don’t want any trouble? You caused trouble by coming to my town! What did you think would happen? You cross a national border and no one in Canada would recognize you? Most people in this country have family in the States and it isn’t like we don’t communicate.”

 

“It’s too bad you won’t live long enough to tell them about us.” Dean’s mouth was twisted in a grimace.

 

She rolled her eyes. “You can’t kill me. Not with your little toy knife, not with your guns, not with anything. But you can feel free to try.” She stood up and glared at Dean right in the eye. “I have never killed an innocent person. I have never wanted to kill innocent people. I have protected this town from wendigoes, nymphs, witches, and just about everything else. This is my _home_. If you kill me you doom my neighbours and friends to violent deaths. Would that make you happy?”

 

“How about you sit down and tell us the whole story?”

 

She spun around to face Sam. “I don’t owe you shit! Why don’t you tell me your whole story? Why didn’t you mention that you’re deranged serial killers before asking me on a date? I am one of few whose kin you have not murdered in cold blood.” She almost mentioned Vanessa but bit her tongue. No secrets would be spilled, not to them. “Someone is coming to live with me until you leave this town. I wouldn’t let him see you if I were you.”

 

Just then her phone rang on the floor. Before she could bend down and snatch it up Sam grabbed it.

 

“Hello?”

 

Foxy was steaming. It was hard to contain herself. It felt like any moment she would explode.

 

“She’s here and she’s fine.” Sam turned the phone so the receiver was facing her.

 

“If they hurt me you’d better avenge my death!” she snarled. It was either Mama or Buck on the phone.

 

Sam put the phone back to his ear. A female voice berated him. “If she doesn’t hurt anyone then we won’t have a problem,” he said calmly.

 

“ _She has never hurt anyone in her life, you sick fuck!_ ” the voice screamed.

 

Sam hung up on her and shrugged at Dean.

 

“My clan goes back thousands of years,” she warned, “so if you want to mess with me you mess with generations of my kind.”

 

“And what, exactly is your kind?”

 

She ran her fingers through her hair. “Gwyllgi.” If they knew the lore, they would know that her kind was not typically dangerous to people. If they didn’t know the lore, they wouldn’t know what her weaknesses were.

 

Dean looked at Sam. Sam said, “Sounds Welsh.”

 

She laughed again. Yes, Welsh. “Someone didn’t do his homework.”

 

“Then enlighten us.”

 

“How about you put the knife away, Dean?”

 

Dean fiddled with the blade before he sat on the couch and placed it on the arm. Foxy also sat back down, her fingers interlaced. “If I tell you about me, will you leave?”

 

Sam immediately shook his head. “Foxy. Dean and I… We aren’t hunting anymore.”

 

She scoffed. “Sure. How’s the PTSD going for you?”

 

Dean cringed and Sam winced.

 

“Hunters are never done for good.”

 

“We’re done.” Sam’s voice had finality but, of course, she wasn’t buying it. “We moved here for peace and quiet. We aren’t leaving.”

 

She shook her head. “Not while I’m here. I’ve taken care of his place and I will take care of you.”

 

 


	9. Tension

**Dean was all too aware of the knife beside him.** He itched to grab it and just thrust it into Foxy’s chest, right between her ribs and into a lung and maybe her heart. He saw her eyes change from rich green to bright red and the ferocity in her gaze; there was no way she could have been trustworthy. She was a beast under the guise of a person.

 

She refused to look at him as she spoke to Sam. It took all of his restraint to stay quiet. Sam was always the one who wanted to understand and connect with other people. He was empathetic. Dean couldn’t stand it. Just kill the lying fucker already.

 

“We’ve been lying low here for two months already,” Sam said, leaning towards her. “We don’t want to stir anything up. Honestly.”

 

“Then it’s none of your business what I am.” Pretentious bitch.

 

Sam sighed.

 

“Okay, Sam, I’m going to tell you something.” Foxy leaned forward and clasped her hands together. “You two are fucked up. I know that, the whole world knows that. Who knows what kind of issues you carried with you here, and I don’t care. You’re having a tough time letting it all go and accepting that there are going to be people like me – yes, I am a _person_ – everywhere. I function as a member of society. I am a good citizen. What more can you reasonably ask of me? You are wasting my time and you are acting extremely selfish. Let it go.”

 

Dean clenched and unclenched his fists. “Is Vanessa like you, too? Are you a duo of animal guardians of this hellhole?”

 

“Do you like men, Dean?” she challenged viciously. “When you masturbate, do you think about taking it up the ass? Maybe you dream about choking on a thick, juicy cock.” Her irises, already red, intensified. It was almost as though they were eclipsing her pupils. “Your sexuality is no business of mine just like how my or anyone else’s other forms are none of yours. Especially now that your lives as hit men are over.”

 

He ground his teeth together. She was really going in the right direction for a punch to the face. She was sub-human; how could she treat them like that? She had no right to these secrets. He picked up the knife to give himself something to play with. The handle was engraved with patterns of snakes; he ran his thumb over them.

 

Sam leaned back. “Okay. I guess we’re done here.”

 

“What?!”

 

His brother turned. “Look, Dean, she clearly isn’t going to tell us. We might as well go.”

 

Dean stomped out the door. Without looking back he got into his car and drove off. He drummed his palms hard against the steering wheel. Sam was the one with the active conscience. If he felt too guilty to take care of what had to be done, Dean would do it himself. Foxy was clearly aggressive and violent and couldn’t contain herself when she got angry. It didn’t matter if she was some Welsh leprechaun or The Hulk.

 

When he got into his apartment, his phone rang.

 

“I looked up what a gwyllgi is, and there isn’t a lot of info on them, but they’re black dogs of Welsh folklore. It translates to ‘Dog of Twilight’. They’re an omen; I don’t see anything here that they hurt people.”

 

“An omen of what?”

 

“Well, death, obviously.”

 

There was his probable cause. “What’s their weakness?”

 

“I don’t know. Not many people have seen them, and I don’t see that they’ve attacked anyone before. There’s nothing here.”

 

“Great.” A monster they knew nothing about. They’d left all of their materials in the bunker, and there was no chance of getting that back without crossing back into the States. And Sam was dead set against going back. “So what do we do?”

 

“Nothing, I guess.”

 

“Nothing? She could be lying to us!”

 

“I don’t think she’s lying, Dean.”

 

“You’re only saying that because you’re hitting it. You said the same thing about Ruby.”

 

There was silence on the other end. It was a low blow. Dean ended the call and paced from the kitchenette to the living room. He was angry beyond words. He just wanted to throttle that cunt until she turned blue.

 

 


	10. Spilled Secrets

**“You need to watch out for those Winchesters.”**

 

Vanessa held her phone between her cheek and shoulder as she folded her laundry. “Oh I don’t know, I don’t think I’ll be able to stay away if you know what I’m saying.”

 

“V, I’m not kidding. I heard some bad stuff from people down south. They’ve done things.”

 

She hung a flowery dress, one of her favourites, in the closet. “What kind of things?” Her cat, Tommy, hopped on the bed and curled up on one of her pillows.

 

“They’re just dangerous, okay?”

 

Foxy normally didn’t care who Vanessa was with at any given time, so the urgency of her voice made her uneasy. What did she know? Where they ex-convicts? “Fox, you’re really giving me the creeps here.”

 

“Good. I just had to tell you. I’ll see you later.”

 

“Yeah. See you.” Vanessa thought back to her time with Dean Winchester a week before. They’d had a great time. He seemed caring – damaged, but caring deep down. She had internally groaned when he had stayed for breakfast, but he had meant well. She shivered to think of what he could have done in his mysterious past. What if he was a rapist? A murderer? Ugh, how disgusting. To think she had liked him. But what if it wasn’t fair to judge him or Sam based on what Foxy said? Maybe there was another side of their story.

 

 _Are you really considering ignoring your best friend just because you had great sex?_ Her conscience was on point. Dean had been a fun toy for the past week but there were plenty of others like him. If he posed a risk to her personal safety he wasn’t worth it.

 

_We still on for tonight?_

 

What timing. She had been thinking of him and he texted her. No, obviously they weren’t on for tonight. They weren’t on ever. She didn’t know what to say, though, without letting on that she and Foxy had talked about them. _Something came up at work. I have some paperwork to do. Sorry._ But that excuse would only warrant rescheduling. She hoped he wouldn’t text back asking about the next night, or the night after that, or the night after that…

 

Dean had stuck around for the week, popping into Garistown after work to see her. It wasn’t often that she let a guy hang around, but it never hurt if he was nice. She may have let him date her for even a couple more weeks. She wanted to know more.

 

She called Foxy back. “I really want to know.”

 

“Vanessa, you probably don’t…”

 

“Yeah, I do.”

 

There was a pause. “Can I trust you? Like, really trust you?”

 

She was taken aback. “Yeah, of course you can. You’re my best friend.”

 

“Then I think you should come over. And bring wine.”

 

Vanessa grabbed a bottle of wine from her fridge. And vodka from her cabinet for good measure. Heavy news needed heavy liquor. She also packed an overnight bag just in case. She got into her Focus and drove to Foxy’s, which was only two minutes away.

 

She didn’t bother knocking. Duke bounded up to her and she patted his head. “What the hell happened to your door? Okay, pour us some wine and spill the beans.”

 

Foxy obliged. They sat at the dining room table across from each other. Before saying anything, Foxy downed half of her glass and gestured for Vanessa to do the same.

 

“This is going to be a wild ride…” Foxy twiddled her thumbs. “Let’s start with your grandmother. Do you remember how she kept insisting that your family is full of witches?”

 

V raised her eyebrows. “Yeah? She was old and crazy.”

 

Foxy shook her head. “No… No she wasn’t. Well, maybe crazy about other things, but not that. You are a witch, Vanessa.”

 

She threw her head back and laughed. “What the hell are you talking about?”

 

Foxy rubbed her eyes. “Witches are real and you’re a witch, even if you’ve never done anything with it. But you could perform magic if you wanted to.”

 

“Pffft. You’re fucking with me.”

 

Foxy’s even gaze was disconcerting. Witches and magic? Yeah right. That was stuff for movies. What did this have to do with Sam and Dean?

 

“I’m not fucking with you. I’m actually dead serious. Here.” Foxy got up and grabbed a piece of paper from the kitchen. It had a pentagram on it. She put it on the table as well as a red candle. “Place both of your hands on the paper and say _Obsecro te, ignibus aurum, ad lucernam accendit hoc considero_.”

 

Vanessa put her palms on the paper. “Could you repeat that?”

 

“ _Obsecro te, ignibus aurum, ad lucernam accendit hoc considero_.”

 

Vanessa listened carefully and tried to repeat all of the words correctly. She assumed it was Latin. With a soft ‘whoof’ the candle wick caught flame. Vanessa squealed and pulled her hands away.

 

“Okay, Fox, this isn’t funny.”

 

Foxy shrugged. “You did that all on your own. It’s in your blood.” She blew out the candle. “I am not a witch and how to light a candle is the only spell I know. All I am trying to tell you is that stuff like vampires, werewolves, witches, ghosts aren’t so improbable.”

 

“You’re telling me they exist.” Her fingers were shaking but she refused to believe that she’d lit the candle. It was obviously a trick.

 

“I’m telling you… Okay, yeah, they exist and they’re everywhere. There aren’t any in Garistown but you’ve probably met one or two in your life without knowing it.”

 

Vanessa shook her head in disbelief.

 

“But that’s not where I’m going with this. Just like you I have a family that isn’t normal. I have powers, too. They call me a gwyllgi. You following? There are some people, called hunters, that kill people like you and me that abuse our powers and wreck other people’s lives. Sam and Dean are these hunters. Except they have a track record for killing lots and lots and lots of people – even if they didn’t hurt anyone. They’re insane.”

 

“What the fuck is a gwyllgi?” Foxy’s words made no sense and she was still wrapping her mind around the witchcraft.

 

Foxy sighed. “Gwyllgi originated in Wales. We are black dogs; you might have heard of The Grim or Padfoot or Black Dog. We bring Death to people who are dying.” She waved her hand. “None of those details really matter. The point is that people like you and I, who are different, are targeted by these two men for no reason aside from blind prejudice.”

 

Vanessa took another drink of wine. “How long have you known about my…witch-ness?”

 

Foxy also took a drink of wine, finishing her glass and pouring herself another. “Since I met your grandmother. Since you didn’t know I didn’t see any reason to tell you. I thought it might protect you in a way. Just like how I haven’t shown my true form in many years. Plausible deniability.”

 

“Mm.” Vanessa also finished her glass. She was a little angry now.

 

“We don’t have any hunters in Garistown. I’ve been making sure of that. To keep us safe.” Foxy reached over and touched her hand. “If anyone found out about your bloodline they would come after you and I can’t let that happen.”

 

“Okay, Foxy, this is all fishy,” Vanessa muttered. “You can’t just keep secrets from me.”

 

She bit her lip. “Well… If anyone knew I was a gwyllgi, I’d be dead for sure. Every hunter in Ontario would come for me. Aside from my family you’re the only one who knows.”

 

“Oh.”

 

They were quiet for a couple of minutes.

 

“They were going to kill me today.”

 

“What?!”

 

“Yeah.” Foxy eyed the vodka. “As soon as I knew who Sam really was I threw him out. He came back with Dean and they kicked in my front door. And my bathroom door. They threatened me with a knife. I mean, I could have fought them off if I had to, but still.”

 

“How did you get them out?”

 

“I talked them down. I told them that I have never hurt anyone without reason and I’ve been protecting this town for years. Like I said, they’re prejudiced and just want to kill us because we aren’t human.”

 

“Not human,” Vanessa murmured to herself. The wine she had gulped down so fast was making her tongue heavy and her mind fuzzy.

 

“That’s why I want you to stay away from them. Because I care about you.”

 

Tears welled up in Vanesa’s eyes. “Yeah. Yeah. I care about you, too.”

 

“Buck is coming to stay with me. We’re going to get them out of this town.” She nodded at the bag tossed in the corner. “You’re obviously welcome to stay if you don’t want to be home alone.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“You can bring Tommy, too.”

 

Vanessa put her head in her hands and began to cry. She didn’t really know why – was it because she had slept with a murderer? Because her best friend was actually some creature? Because she was a witch? There really wasn’t much reason to cry; she was safe and Foxy was keeping her company. She cried anyway.

 

Foxy walked over and rubbed her back and kissed the top of her head. “Sorry, honey.”

 

Vanessa lifted her head, tears still streaming down her cheeks. “Let’s do shots.”

 

 


	11. Between Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW :D

**They were good and hammered.** It wasn’t often that Foxy let herself drink that much. But she desperately needed to let go. Soon enough she and V were talking and laughing about everything. Well, mostly sex.

 

“So you didn’t even sleep with him?”

 

Foxy shook her head. “I kind of wanted to, ‘cause he’s hot, but I only ever kissed him a couple of times.”

 

“Your restraint is admirable.”

 

“Maybe you should take a page out of my book,” she said, giggling.

 

“Nah, I’m good! I have enough orgasms to make up for your abstinence.”

 

Foxy grinned wide. “What makes you think I don’t have as many orgasms as you do?”

 

Vanessa jumped to her feet, or tried to. She used the wall for support. Foxy didn’t want to get off the floor in the middle of the kitchen where they were sitting, but it looked like Vanessa was on a mission. Her friend stumbled through the hall and up the stairs. Foxy followed, sure that she would trip and fall.

 

“Where are you going?” she slurred.

 

Vanessa didn’t answer until she burst into Foxy’s room and collapsed on her bed. “What kind of toys do you have?” she asked eagerly.

 

Foxy wasn’t one to be embarrassed about her sex life, especially with Vanessa. She opened the top drawer of her dresser. One by one she tossed a plastic vibrator, lubricant, anal beads, and a blue rubber dildo on the bed. Vanessa looked at them with curiosity.

 

“Tell me they’re clean,” she said as she picked up the vibrator to switch it on.

 

“They’re clean,” Foxy assured her, giggling, climbing on to the bed beside her.

 

The vibrator buzzed loudly. “Wow.” Vanessa put it against her palm. “That’s strong.”

 

“I need a new one. Maybe a Rampant Rabbit!”

 

“Oooh, I have one of those,” she gushed. “Ten out of ten stars, definitely worth the purchase.” She turned the vibrator off and picked up the anal beads. “I used these once and I definitely did not have a good time.”

 

Foxy felt aroused seeing her sex toy in her friend’s hands. “They’re not my favourite.” She traced the dildo with her finger. “This fella is the best boyfriend I ever had.”

 

“He’s probably bigger than any boyfriend you ever had,” Vanessa laughed.

 

“No! Remember Jack from college? He had a huge dick. Nine inches isn’t really my preference.”

 

V leaned over and rested her head on her shoulder. “What is your preference?”

 

“What, dick size?”

 

“No, in general.”

 

Foxy played with the ends of Vanessa’s long brown hair. “I don’t know. Attractive people that like to have sex and cuddle.”

 

“Do you remember that grade ten sleepover at Claire’s house?”

 

Foxy chuckled. “Spin the bottle? Yeah I remember.” That was almost ten years ago…

 

“It was fun.” There was a smile in her voice.

 

“Mhmm?” Foxy trailed her hand over her back.

 

Vanessa looked up. “Are you as drunk as I am?”

 

“If not more,” she replied with a grin. Vanessa reached up and tilted her head, touching her lips to Foxy’s. When they were fifteen the bottle landed on them they had been inexperienced and unsure of themselves; Vanessa was the only girl Foxy had ever kissed. But now Vanessa gracefully twined her fingers in Foxy’s hair and glided her tongue against the entrance of her lips. Foxy slid a hand over Vanessa’s slim waist. Vanessa pulled Foxy over her on the bed and they immediately pressed their hips together.

 

They didn’t speak as they pulled each other’s clothes off; Foxy didn’t want to shatter the moment with words. Instead she caressed Vanessa, and kissed her, and enjoyed her. The sound of their breathing mingled and made Foxy feel even hornier. She spread Vanessa’s legs and placed her hand between them.

 

“Mmm…”

 

She was wet. Foxy slowly drew circles on her labia and spread her juices. Vanessa arched her back with pleasure. She crouched down and placed her mouth square on her pussy, her tastebuds tingling with the strange new taste. It was acidic and warm and sweet and she swirled her tongue around and around. She was clean shaven, making it much easier to lick and suck. She dipped her tongue into her slit and Vanessa squirmed.

 

It wasn’t like giving head to a man. This was so much better. There was no choking, no worry about teeth. It was easier and Vanessa’s quiet moaning was that much hotter. She looked up when Vanessa tapped her on the top of her head.

 

“Use that,” she said breathlessly, pointing at the dildo.

 

Foxy smiled and picked it up. “I gotta ask before you use my toy. Any STIs?”

 

Vanessa giggled. “No! I might be a slut but I take care of myself! Now come on!” She bucked her hips.

 

Foxy went back to tonguing her clit, but slowly worked a finger inside her as well. That got her all worked up; she shivered and shook and whimpered. Foxy felt her vagina stretch and widen and leak with anticipation. Foxy inserted a second finger and rubbed against her G spot.

 

“Deeper… Please…”

 

Foxy withdrew and dripped some lubricant from the bottle over the dildo. She put it against her entrance. “Want it?”

 

“Yes…” Vanessa was dead still but she could see her clit swelling and her vagina throbbing.

 

She pressed the silicone toy into her and resumed using her mouth. Vanessa cried out wordlessly, thrusting her hips upward and grasping at the sheets. When the dildo was all the way in, Foxy began to fuck her friend with it.

 

“ _Oh god oh fuck oh my god…_ ”

 

Her exclamations only fueled Foxy’s lust. She could feel her own pussy starting to drip juice down her leg. She took her other hand and covered her fingers in her fluids and gently inserted a lubricated finger into Vanessa’s tight little asshole. It was hard to multitask, so she plunged the dildo as deep inside her as it could go and concentrated on stimulating her ass.

 

“I’m gonna cum… I’m gonna cum…”

 

Foxy pressed on Vanessa’s clitoris harder and licked faster, sliding her finger deeper. She felt V shaking under her and heard her laboured breathing become even more ragged. Suddenly she arched her back and her legs tensed; “Oh shit! Oh shit god oh… Oh…” A violent shudder rocked her body and she lay back on the bed, moaning and panting. Foxy pulled away and climbed over her to kiss her. And to straddle her so she could grind her swelling clit against her.

 

Vanessa took no time to recover and immediately started fingering Foxy, whose netherlands were already soaking.

 

“Can’t contain yourself, huh? You want to cum, baby girl?”

 

Foxy lay on her back and Vanessa got on her knees between her legs. She used two fingers to fuck her, and Foxy just couldn’t keep quiet. It had been so long since someone fingered her this good… And there was no reason to be quiet. It was her fucking house and she was having a good fucking time!

 

Vanessa started to rub her clit. Being finger fucked _and_ stimulated at once was her weakness; already waves were washing over her and even though she didn’t want to cum so soon she didn’t want it to stop either…

 

“Yes, Vanessa, don’t stop! Please don’t stop this is so good please ah!”

 

Vanessa did stop, to her displeasure, to get the vibrator. She clicked it on and pressed the buzzing metal against her clit and got the dildo to slide inside of her. Now she was really fucked. Foxy’s eyes rolled back in her head and succumbed to her trembling legs. Everything below her waist felt fucking amazing. She couldn’t speak; she just let the pure pleasure take over her.

 

Vanessa fucked her with the dildo harder and harder and harder. Foxy wanted it deeper every time, deeper, more more more. Don’t stop, just don’t fucking stop this is so fucking good! It felt like she was burning.

 

Foxy couldn’t breathe. Every muscle in her body seized save for her shaking. Everything in her mind disappeared, and nothing existed, for a second. “ _OH MY GOD OHHH OH!_ ” she screamed. A rippling orgasm came over her from head to toe. It seemed every single nerve short circuited and she couldn’t feel anything but ecstasy.

 

Vanessa removed the toys and lay down beside her. She kissed her shoulder.

 

“You okay?”

 

She laughed weakly. “Oh… Gimme a minute…”


	12. Truce

**Google was great but it wasn’t much compared to the archives of the bunker.** Sam spent hours scrolling through pages of results; most of them were bogus. The thing with technology was that everyone wanted to annotate everything down to their eating habits, so there was very little to be found on the gwyllgi.

 

Sitting at his small dining table Sam rested his chin on his fist. He was so tired but he couldn’t sleep. He remembered his first kiss; she had been non-human but also had the best intentions to avoid harming anyone. Foxy was right – the brothers were notorious for mass killings. Were they doing the right thing? It didn’t matter now. They were done with all of that.

 

He absent-mindedly clicked on a link: “My Encounter With The Black Shuck”. The Black Shuck sounded familiar. Was this another alias?

 

Ah, yes… The memory came back.

 

-

 

_Dean looked over their acquaintance with distaste. He swirled the dregs of his beer bottle, waiting for the new guy to speak. Sam disapproved of his brother’s lack of manners and tried to compensate with attentiveness._

_“You American hunters don’t know nothin’,” Lesley said. He was a thickset fellow, pale skin, shaved head, patchy clothes, and a heavy Scottish accent. “I been all around Europe and your monsters are tame as shite. Until you meet sirens and centaurs you got nothin’ to complain about.”_

_“Oh really?” Sam, who, of course, disagreed, took a swig. He wasn’t about to argue but…_

_“I beg to differ,” Dean blurted. “You ever ganked a wendigo?”_

_Lesley guffawed. “I’m almost twice your age. I’ve killed just about everything you can imagine. You’re just ninnies.”_

I doubt you’ve taken down Lucifer himself _, Sam thought to himself with gritted teeth._

_“I bet you’ve never encountered a Shuck.” The Scot lowered his voice. “They’re somethin’ else I tell you.”_

_“What’s a Shuck?” It was better to ask before Dean tried to insult him again._

_“It’s a huge, black dog with red eyes.” Lesley’s face went pale. “The lore is that if it looks directly at you, you’re doomed to die within the year. It wanders dark laneways and forests to find lone travelers. There’s no way to kill it; you can only banish it from the area.”_

_“You look spooked.”_

_“Fuckin’ yeah I do! It’s like Medusa on crack. To banish them you need to summon one and then throw a mix of tropical seawater, blood of an old white dove, autumnal leaves, and reindeer antler all while saying a prayer… Jesus Christ if I had hair it woulda turned white with fright.”_

_Dean rolled his eyes and Sam glared at him._

 

-

 

Sam scrambled for a pen and piece of paper so he could write down all that he could remember. He didn’t want to share this information with Dean just yet, though…

 

He tucked the slip of paper away between the pages of a book and grabbed his coat. He had to talk to Foxy whether she liked it or not.

 

He pounded on her door and waited. When a minute passed he knocked again.

 

“Fuck off!”

 

She was very explosive with her language. “I want to talk. It’s just me.”

 

“I don’t have anything to say to you.”

 

“Foxy, I liked you, can’t we please have a conversation?”

 

An angry screech sounded from the other side of the door. Then she opened it. “Why didn’t you just kick the goddamn door in,” she growled.

 

Sam tentatively scooched past her into the hallway. “Honest, I just want to talk.”

 

Foxy – wearing a nightgown and her long hair drawn into a frizzy braid – shrugged emphatically and looked to the ceiling. “Of course you do.”

 

“What is _he_ doing here?” Vanessa demanded from the top of the stairs. She stared down at him with disdain.

 

Sam pointed up at her. “What, she knows?”

 

Foxy turned to the stairs. “I told you to stay in the bedroom!”

 

“Well I couldn’t just let you talk to this douchebag by yourself now could I?”

 

Foxy pinched the bridge of her nose. “Come on inside, Sam, let’s make it a party. But first give me your knife and any other weapons you’re carrying.”

 

He patted his pockets and pulled a pocket knife from his jeans. She took it and left it on the stairs. Vanessa came down as they walked into the living room. Vanessa also had her hair in a messy braid and wore a pair of trackpants and a crop top.

 

“Sit.” She pointed at the armchair. The two women sat cross-legged beside each other on the couch. “I’m going to skip the tea and coffee if you don’t mind,” she said sourly. “What do you want to talk about?”

 

Sam felt extremely uncomfortable. “What does Vanessa know?”

 

“We’re not–”

 

“She told me everything.” Vanessa raised her chin and squared her shoulders. “Last night.”

 

“ _Everything?_ ”

 

Foxy touched her friend’s arm. “Yes, everything. We had the vampire talk and I told her what I am and I told her who you are.”

 

“But Vanessa is human, right?”

 

“We’re not–”

 

“No. I’m a witch.”

 

“ _Goddamn it, Vanessa!_ ” Foxy looked at him with wide eyes. “She didn’t know until I told her. She’s never practiced witchcraft, I swear. Leave her out of this.”

 

They certainly weren’t on the same page. Sam leaned back in the chair. There was a lot to talk about. “Okay… How did a Black Shuck end up in Garistown?”

 

She shook her head. “No. You first. How did both Winchesters end up here?”

 

He took a deep breath and wondered if he should have called Dean first. “We had enough. After tons of convoluted bullshit, that would take _hours_ to explain,” he added as Foxy opened her mouth to protest, “we got ourselves in a pickle. Dean had the Mark of Cain and we had to chase after the King of Hell and help Castiel regain order in Heaven… Once we finished all of that, we decided we were done. We wanted something normal for once in our lives. It was too much to keep going.” He licked his lips. “Since we committed innumerable counts of fraud and theft, crossing the border would give us a fresh start.”

 

“As long as you can avoid federal agents,” she replied dryly.

 

“As long as we can avoid federal agents,” he agreed. “Your turn. You know me but I don’t know you.”

 

Foxy played with her blonde braid. Her nails, painted red and yellow, were chipped. It looked like she and Vanessa had had an exciting sleepover. She sighed, looked at her friend, and then closed her eyes. “If only to rid myself of you.” She opened them again and held his gaze. “I was born north of here to the largest clan in North America. When we, the youngest generation, came of age we decided to leave our community. I came to Garistown and my brothers, cousins, and friends live nearby. We protect our respective communities.”

 

“The largest clan?” he spluttered. “How many is that?”

 

“I thought you stopped caring about us monsters,” she said flatly. “We were maybe fifty strong.”

 

“When did you move here?” Vanessa interjected. “Did you come here by yourself? I remember meeting your mom – wasn’t that your mom?”

 

Foxy grinned. “Yes, my mother came with me. She didn’t want to be apart from me even though I was technically an adult by their standards; I was twelve when we moved here.”

 

“Listen, Foxy…” Sam perched on the edge of the chair. “I know we got off on the wrong foot, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong here.”

 

She snorted in derision. “You’re a serial killer.”

 

“ _Was_ a serial killer, if you’d really like to put it that way. That’s done and over with and, okay, we’ve made many mistakes but we’re trying really hard now.” _Dean would never resort to begging…_

 

Foxy huffed. “You never gave anyone a chance. Why should I show you mercy and kindness?”

 

“Because…” He hesitated. “Because moving would hurt both of us and we truly mean well and we truly want to make friends and enjoy what’s left of our lives.” Hell knew how long they had left…

 

She looked at Vanessa and sighed. “My brother is coming. If you or your brother make one wrong move…”

 

“Of course. We won’t.”

 

Foxy stood up and offered her hand. “This doesn’t make us friends.”

 

 


	13. Brother Dear

**“He ruined my high.”**

 

Vanessa laughed at Foxy’s pouting face and played with the edge of her braid with her fingers. “I know. It was fun while it lasted anyway.”

 

Foxy raised an eyebrow as she went into the kitchen. “Who said it has to be over?”

 

It was very rash to sleep with her best friend and she knew that. Sex had a knack of complicating relationships, and considering she was the casual, no-strings sex kind of woman Vanessa had learned to keep it in her pants around her friends. But she and Foxy were so close, and she was so gorgeous, that her drunk self didn’t show self-restraint. But how could she possibly tell her that it was only one night if she wanted more?

 

“If your brother is coming we should probably fix ourselves up.”

 

“Yeah I guess so.” Vanessa heard the fridge open. “You can go ahead and use the shower; there are clean towels on the shelf. I’m going to make some pasta, that okay?”

 

“I love pasta!” Vanessa went back up the stairs to Foxy’s bedroom. She had met Buck only once before, several years ago. Tall, blue-eyed, buff, protective, and charming, she had been very taken with him from the get-go. But he lived several hours away and Vanessa didn’t have a chance to get to know him. Who knew what he was like now?

 

The shower felt amazing. Hot, steaming water washed away her sweat from the night before and she massaged her hair with a gratuitous amount of shampoo. She thought about how Foxy left Sam off the hook; she was far fiercer than Vanessa and whenever there was a conflict she would never miss a beat before tearing someone’s character apart. It was surprising that all they’d done was shake hands.

 

After drying off she hopped into the jeans and sweater she’d packed. “I’m done in the bathroom!” she called as she walked down to the kitchen.

 

“Thanks!” Foxy left a plate of penne and tomato sauce on the table for V, having already eaten hers, and took her turn in the shower. Vanessa crammed a forkful in her mouth and savoured the store-bought flavour. Empty carbs were so good… So bad, but so good…

 

There was a knock at the door. Vanessa glanced at the stairs and, upon hearing the shower was still running, got up to answer it. She peeked through the eyehole first to make sure it wasn’t Sam or Dean. It was definitely Buck. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand to make sure there weren’t any remnants of her lunch on her face.

 

“Hi!”

 

“Oh, you’re here.” Buck was tall – about as tall as Sam. Vanessa had to tilt her head back to make eye contact. He had shaggy, black-streaked hair, some stubble on his face, and wore jeans and a leather jacket. His eyes were as strikingly blue as ever.

 

“Your enthusiasm is overwhelming.” She stepped aside to let him in.

 

He tossed his working-grade boots on the bottom step of the stairs. “I’m here to see Tricks. She didn’t mention you. So you’re still friends, huh?”

 

“Yeah. Still friends.” He _used_ to be charming. “She’s in the shower. Make yourself at home.” Vanessa, put off by his tactless entry, retreated upstairs. He was handsome but sure seemed rude. She heard him go back outside and bring in a suitcase. She plopped herself on Foxy’s bed.

 

The shower shut off and a moment later Foxy emerged from the en suite in a towel.

 

“Your brother has arrived.”

 

“Oh, good!” She took the towel off to rub her hair. They’d been naked around each other plenty of times. Vanessa still wanted to run her fingers down Foxy’s back. She slipped a tank top over her breasts and jeans over her legs. Who needed underwear?

 

“He asked if we were still friends,” Vanessa grumbled.

 

“Well, if we aren’t friends, what the hell was last night?” Foxy laughed. “I’m going to say hi.” She bounced out of the room.

 

V listened to their exchange.

 

“Tricks!” His coat rustled and there was a brief silence – a hug.

 

“It is so good to see you,” Foxy gushed. “I’ve missed you.”

 

“It’s been, what, three years? I’ve missed you, too. Your big brother is here to save the day.”

 

“Thank you so much for coming. We have a lot to talk about.”

 

“You bet – you should kick your pal out so we can catch up.”

 

“Actually, she’s staying here, too. Bring your stuff upstairs and we’ll have a powwow.”

 

Buck lugged his suitcase up the stairs and deposited it down the hall in the spare bedroom. Foxy brought him to her room and they both sat on the bed beside Vanessa.

 

“Buck, you know Vanessa. Vanessa, you know Buck. We’re going to be a big, happy family for the next few days, right?” Foxy looked at them both expectantly.

 

 _Not if he keeps talking to me like a child_ , she thought. “Yes ma’am,” she said instead. Buck only nodded.

 

“Excellent. Now, Buck, let’s get you up to speed.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “I talked to Sam Winchester this morning.”

 

He clenched his fists. “I should have known that smell. He was in your _house_?”

 

Foxy smiled weakly and shook her head. “Oh, it gets worse than that, but don’t worry about it. The Winchesters know about us, and I told Vanessa last night.”

 

“You might as well announce it to the world!”

 

“Hear me out!” Foxy’s eyes smoldered. “Do you really think I am an idiot? Do you really think I’d do that to you – to our family?” She ran her fingers through her hair and breathed deeply. “Vanessa is a witch and she is in as much danger as we are.”

 

Buck looked her up and down. “I had no idea.” His voice was softer than before.

 

Vanessa lifted her chin and stared him down.

 

“Well there you have it,” Foxy continued. “I had a confrontation with the Winchesters last night and Sam showed up at my doorstep this morning looking to talk. So we talked. And we have a sort of…truce.”

 

“A _truce_?!” he roared, the veins in his neck straining against his skin. He jumped to his feet and glared at his sister. “A fucking truce. Are you serious? Tell me you aren’t serious. Those men are _animals_. We can’t trust them!”

 

“I don’t trust them!” She shouted back. “All I told him was that we can coexist as long as they don’t misstep.”

 

Buck paced the room. “I can’t believe you had him here. Alone. What if he attacked you?”

 

Vanessa shrank away from her friend as she let out an inhuman snarl. She leapt from the bed and dove at Buck, aiming all of her weight at his hips. He stumbled backward then crashed to the floor, Foxy straddling him with one hand pressing down on his throat.

 

“I think you forgot who your sister is,” she seethed.

 

Buck wrapped his arms around her and brought her into a tight embrace. “That’s my girl.”

 

“Jesus Christ you two,” Vanessa said. They got to their feet and turned back to her. She shook her head. This was going to be interesting…

 

 


	14. Confrontation of the Attractive Kind

**“Sam!”**

 

Dean wheeled around on his brother. Sam was sitting at his two-person dining table and Dean was pacing the living room. Sam’s apartment was nice; he had the furniture all set up and kept it all tidy. It actually looked like a home.

 

“Look, Dean, it’s best for us right now. There’s no need to start a war if they aren’t doing anything wrong.”

 

He chewed on his thumbnail, one of his nervous tics. “I can’t be here with them. They’re monsters and they should be taken care of before they lose control of themselves.”

 

“They’ve kept it together this long. And I checked news for northern Ontario – there’s no evidence that Foxy’s clan killed anyone. And Vanessa didn’t know she was a witch before last night. I think we should give them a chance.”

 

“We’ve given lots of chances!” Dean shouted. “And every single time innocent people end up dead.”

 

“So you suggest that we kill them and leave town? Hope that no one comes after us?”

 

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

 

Sam threw his hands in the air. “I’m _done_ , Dean. There are going to be monsters everywhere and I’m not spending the rest of my life tracking them all down. I’m not going to end up like Dad.”

 

It felt like the breath was knocked out of him. _I’m not going to end up like Dad_. “Fine.” He stalked to the door.

 

“Dean–”

 

But he left. He didn’t want to hear it. They were the only family they had left. They were their only friends. Who the fuck knew if Cas still cared about them? He was trying so, so hard to hold them together, and this was what he got. Sam’s selfishness. Sam’s ignorance. A whirlwind of emotions came over him and he didn’t know whether he wanted to laugh or scream.

 

Driving back to his place he blared classic rock. It didn’t make him feel better; if anything, the loud music fueled his anger. He sped down the highway, accelerating faster and faster until the Neon’s engine made whining noises. He lifted his foot from the gas and cruised the rest of the way to Asten.

 

He went up to his kitchen and poured himself a tumbler of whiskey. The whole situation sucked balls. In the back of his mind he knew settling down would fail. It hadn’t worked before, so why would it work now? He was miserable thinking about all of the people he could be saving. And Vanessa had been really hot; why did she have to be an abomination? He sucked back the whiskey and poured more. It would be one of those nights.

 

There was a knock at the door. He stared at it. No one ever visited.

 

He made sure he had his dagger on his belt and pulled it open only enough to peek through. He immediately put his hand on the hilt of his knife.

 

“You need to lay down your douchebaggery,” was the way Vanessa chose to introduce herself.

 

“You need to get away from my door or I will stab you,” he countered.

 

She stuck her foot in the doorway. “Come on, Dean, put the asshole part of you away. I know you liked me. So what the fuck?”

 

“‘The fuck’ is you’re a goddamn witch and I don’t need you scattering hex bags around my place!”

 

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t even know what the fuck hex bags are, okay, just let me in.”

 

He stared at her. She stared back defiantly. Her eyes – sparking, pure, and still gorgeous even though he wouldn’t admit it – were hard like opals. Eventually he opened the door a little wider and let her pass. He closed the door and crossed his arms.

 

“Okay, so, I heard some shit about you,” she began. She also crossed her arms and mirrored his strong stance. “And I want this all to be water under the bridge because I don’t want to live like we’re enemies.”

 

“How did you find out where I live?”

 

“It’s a small town. I also followed you.”

 

He furrowed his brow.

 

“So what is your problem?”

 

“You aren’t human.”

 

She spun around in a circle. “I’m human last I checked! When we were having sex did you notice anything off? No! Because I’m the same species!”

 

He gritted his teeth. He didn’t want to be reminded of their affair. “You are not one of us.”

 

“Do you say that to black people?”

 

“What?”

 

“Seriously. According to Foxy I can manipulate elements of the fuckin’… I don’t know what I can do! I don’t even know any Latin whatsoever except for carpe diem. I present zero threats to you.” She walked over to the whiskey on the counter and knocked it back.

 

“You’re still a witch.”

 

She poured another glass and offered it to him. “You’re still being an asshole.” He took the drink and drank it while he listened to her. “And, you know, the thing about assholes is that I can’t go around murdering all of them.”

 

He only grunted.

 

She pointed at the couch. “We’re going to sit and hash this out right now. Sam works at my favourite bar and you go there every Friday so we’re going to see each other and this has to stop.”


	15. Finding Family

**Castiel stood with his suitcase in front of Sam’s workplace.** He didn’t know where Sam lived, so he would wait until his shift was over. But his suitcase was sitting in snow, so it was getting a little wet. He went to the front door and pulled the luggage after him.

 

Sam looked up as the bell rang and Castiel gave the customary wave of ‘hello’. Sam looked surprised.

 

“Hey, Cas, it’s been a while.”

 

Castiel liked it when they called him Cas. It was familiar. “Yes. It is good to see you again.”

 

Sam gestured at the stools at the bar. “Come and sit. I’ll be done in about an hour.” His eyes landed on the suitcase. “You need somewhere to stay?”

 

Castiel sat directly in front of Sam. He glanced down at his bag as well. “I was in Toronto at a motel and I was kicked out. I didn’t like being homeless.” He felt some anxiety over whether the brothers would have room for him, or if they even wanted him in town. It was never clear if he alienated them and if they still accepted him. Every time he saw them his chest got a little tighter; over millennia he had never felt this, but for the previous five years the Winchesters invoked so many new feelings in him.

 

“You should have called earlier, Cas. Yeah you can stay with us.” Sam took out a rag and began wiping the counter.

 

“I appreciate it.” He looked around the pub. There were five people. Two of them were eating together and three of them were sitting by themselves. He was glad that he didn’t feel hunger anymore although human food did taste good. The room had a lot of wood; wooden floors, wooden bar, wooden seating, wood-paneled walls…

 

“Would you like something to eat or drink?” Sam interrupted his thoughts.

 

“No. Thank you.” Castiel analyzed the graining on the bar. It likely wasn’t real wood, but it had a lot of complex patterns within it.

 

“Hey. I’m done my shift.”

 

Castiel dragged his gaze away from the bar. He had been staring at the laminate for an hour? It was very easy to get lost in the smallest of details. He stood and followed Sam outside where it had started to snow. When Castiel was human the temperature affected him far more – the cold especially was unpleasant.

 

“So how are you, Cas?”

 

“I’m fine. My grace is intact and no one is hunting me as far as I’m aware.” He knew in the way that Sam talked to him that the Winchesters thought he was odd. Their tone was often patronizing, but Castiel didn’t mind too much.

 

“What are you up to these days?”

 

They entered a tall, grey building. “We’ve been reassembling Heaven. Many angels are still on Earth and I’m trying to get them to return.”

 

“How is that going?”

 

“Not well.”

 

They got on an elevator. Sam pressed 7. The buttons went up to 11.

 

“Well, Cas, whenever you don’t have a place you can always come to Garistown. We’ll always have room for you.”

 

It felt nice to hear him say that. Castiel’s muscles relaxed. The elevator stopped and Sam led him down a short hallway to his front door.

 

“It isn’t much…” he began as he unlocked the deadbolt.

 

He pulled his wheelie suitcase behind him and examined the apartment. It was kind of small and mostly grey. The walls were grey, the furniture was grey. It was neat and not messy unlike the motel rooms they’d stayed in.

 

“You can put your stuff by the couch,” Sam said, pointing. “It’s a pullout.”

 

He did as he was told, but noticed he left slushy footprints across the floor from his shoes. He took them off and perched on the arm of the couch. “I like this place.”

 

Sam chuckled. “Thanks.”

 

For once, he felt happy.

 

 


	16. Everything Seems Like a Complicated Soap Opera

**“Vanessa has been gone for a long time.”**

 

Buck opened his eyes and looked at his watch. “Yeah. Where did she go again? To pick up some work…?”

 

“And her cat.” Foxy leaned against her brother’s shoulder again. They were sitting on the couch together, half-awake, watching lame television shows. Both of them were very happy to be in each other’s company again.

 

He wrinkled his nose at the word ‘cat’ and went back to tilting his head back and closing his eyes. “So tell me about this Winchester situation and how it started.”

 

Foxy shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

 

“You have to talk about it.”

 

She sighed. “We met at the pub. I went with Vanessa and we got chummy.” She bit her lip. “Dean and Vanessa went home together. I came back here with Sam. I liked him.”

 

Buck made a grunting sound.

 

Foxy ignored him. “Yesterday he was on the phone with someone that was looking for John Winchester. That’s how I figured it out.”

 

“And then you instated a delicate truce that we all must obey.”

 

“I didn’t know what else to do.” Tears stung her eyes. “Sam was pleading with me. I don’t know if he was telling the truth, but he begged for some peace between us.”

 

“You always did care too much.” Buck turned his head and kissed her hair.

 

“I couldn’t take both of them at once either. I needed to wait for you. We know what they’re like.”

 

“Mhmm.”

 

Silence stretched between them for miles. The TV played some reality cooking show. Eventually Foxy drifted into a snooze with the smell of her brother’s sweater soothing her.

 

-

 

Her phone buzzed loudly in her pocket three times, jolting her awake. Buck was still passed out beside her, his head tilted back and his mouth wide open almost cartoonishly. It made Foxy smile just to see him so comfortable; they hadn’t seen one another in years and it was refreshing to finally relax together. Doing her best not to move quickly she pulled out her phone.

 

_hope ur not worrying. i'm not in trouble._

 

Foxy rubbed her eyes. So Vanessa still hadn’t come back…

 

_Where are you? Do you need help with packing some stuff or…?_

 

“Mm?” Buck let out a sleepy groan as he opened his eyes.

 

“Good morning, sunshine.”

 

“S’Vanissa here yet?”

 

_asten. i’m telling you not to worry._

 

Foxy stared at the phone screen. There was only one reason she would go to the next town over. Foxy certainly wasn’t worried; she was furious. When she looked up to her brother he instantly picked up on the icy glint in her eye; his shoulders tensed and he clenched his jaw.

 

“No. She’s not here. She’s gone off to see Dean Winchester.”

 

Without a word both siblings jumped from the couch to the front hall, Foxy only pausing to grab car keys. The front door was still broken, so there was no point in locking it. Duke, who had been napping on his dog bed, watched them go with a sad, anxious expression.

 

Foxy owned a suped-up Volkswagen Golf. When she stepped on the accelerator it graciously sped forward like an unbroken stallion. Buck still hadn’t gotten his seatbelt on by the time they got to the main road.

 

“What was she _thinking_?” he hissed.

 

Foxy shook her head, her gaze fixed on the road ahead. “She wasn’t.”

 

“No shit.”

 

Thank goodness the police department wasn’t much for chasing speeders or Foxy would have been screwed. She weaved between soccer moms and retirees going easily twenty over the limit. This cut their trip almost in half, and ten minutes later she was squealing into Dean’s building parking lot. The front door didn’t have a com system, so they strolled right in and up the stairs.

 

“ _Vanessa Valentine!”_ Foxy shouted. She didn’t know which door belonged to him, so making as much attention as she could would likely get him to open up.

 

Sure enough the door at the end of the hall swung open. Dean’s expression mirrored Buck’s: unblinking eyes hard, jaw set, hands balled into fists, shoulders squared, legs set apart. The main difference was that Dean was missing a shirt.

 

Before she could do anything, a bellow came from behind her. “Foxy stop!”

 

She wheeled around to see the other Winchester. “Stop _what_ , exactly?”

 

Vanessa’s voice came from the doorway. Foxy turned back and saw that her friend wasn’t wearing much more than a sweater, and it certainly wasn’t hers. “I told you not to worry!”

 

“I told _you_ to stay away from them! Did you just _fuck_ him?!”

 

“ _ENOUGH!_ ” Buck’s roar shook the air. He grabbed his sister’s arm. “I know you care about her, but if she wants to be a fucking moron then you should let her. He can’t hurt her or he’ll face breaking the truce.” He trained his cold blue eyes on Dean. “If they’re happy then we should go home.”

 

Foxy stared at Vanessa, who stared back.

 

“Fine.” She whipped around and pushed past Sam to get to the stairs. Her throat threatened to close up and her eyes overflowed. She had told Vanessa everything, but this was still how she wanted to act after all. Immature, childish, reckless…

 

Bursting through the main door, Foxy’s emotions finally overwhelmed her and she couldn’t help but sob her way to the car. She could hear Buck following her silently, which she appreciated. She leaned over the hood. “I have to leave,” she gasped.

 

Buck rubbed her shoulders. “You don’t have to go anywhere.”

 

She swallowed as hard as she could. “I can’t do this.”

 

“You can do anything, Tricks.”

 

“No, no, no…” Not when her best friend ditched her for them. They’d slept together only last night…

 

“ _What do you want me to do, Sammy?_ ” A voice drifted out from a window on the upper floor. Foxy raised her head and tried to listen closely; what would those two be fighting about?

 

“ _You can’t just go behind our backs!_ ”

 

The voices lowered and she couldn’t distinguish the rest of the conversation. ‘Our’?

 

“Let’s get out of here,” she muttered, slipping into the driver’s seat.

 

 


	17. Losing Internal Battles

**Sam knew he would be rejected at the door.** But he stood there anyway with a bottle of red wine in one hand and two pepperoni pizzas balanced on the other. He felt a bit silly; he didn’t know how to make amends with normal people… When the door opened a crack his heart jumped into his throat.

 

“What?” Her resigned sigh told him that she was running out of fight.

 

He nodded at the objects in his hands. “Can I come in?”

 

Foxy stepped aside. “You might as well.”

 

He walked past her and she freed his hands, taking the food and drink to the dining room after kicking the door shut. There was still a draft from the splintered wood; he was surprised it could still latch closed.

 

“Buck isn’t here,” she said. “He’s gone to…do stuff.” She procured a corkscrew from a kitchen drawer.

 

Sam stood awkwardly in the doorway. “I came by to–”

 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He shut his mouth as she dismissed him. “You’re sorry, you want things to be better between us. Whatever. I’m not interested. Sit. Eat. Drink.”

 

He obliged. She sat and he pulled out the chair opposite her. She poured the wine into two glasses while he grabbed a slice right out of the box. Their meal started off in silence as they dwelled in their own heads.

 

“I talked to them.”

 

Foxy stared steadily at him. “There is nothing you could possibly say that could convince me to forgive them.”

 

He shook his head. “I’m just as angry as you are, believe me. Secret meetings are the last thing I want.”

 

Her gaze oozed suspicion. “And?”

 

“And they’re getting along. I think Vanessa used the word friends.” He took a massive bite of pizza. Greasy goodness covered his tongue; he focused on the flavour through the tension.

 

“Friends,” she scoffed. “Sure. Whatever. It’s none of my business, I guess, so I’ll let it go.” She took a big gulp of wine. “How many people have you killed, Sam?”

 

“People?”

 

“Yes. Humans and non-humans.”

 

He shrugged and played with the wine glass stem between his fingers. “A lot.”

 

“More than a hundred?”

 

“No. Maybe. I don’t know!” He took a swig of wine as well. “It’s been years. But Foxy, those monsters were murdering, terrorizing, and threatening innocent peo– humans.”

 

She crossed her arms. “Except when they weren’t and you or your brother killed them in cold blood.”

 

He stared into his glass. “We’ve made grave mistakes.”

 

“Yeah. Mistakes.” She raised her ivy eyes to the ceiling. “Do you know what gwyllgi are?”

 

“Barely.”

 

“There’s a reason why you can’t find any information on our kind. We are aides of Death. I’m sure you know that Death is a powerful force.”

 

Sam’s mind flashed back to when he, Dean, and Castiel had trapped Death. Yes, he was familiar…

 

“Death helps conceal us from hunters and prying eyes. That’s why you see me as I am.” Foxy twirled her golden hair between her fingers. “But in our true form we seek out those close to dying and mark them for Reapers to find and collect. We are hounds and nothing more.”

 

Sam drained his glass and poured another. He was surprised and pleased that gwyllgi weren’t killers. “I met someone once who told me he’d banished one.”

 

She cleared her throat. “Everyone has a weakness. Our cousins in Britain are struggling.” She eyed him. “We look out for each other. That’s why we live in clans – to stay safe.”

 

Sam reached across the table and put his hand over hers. Her hand was cold and tense; he gently trailed his thumb over her skin. Her eyes switched from thoughtful to sharp, but she didn’t pull away.

 

“I don’t ever want to hurt you,” he said softly. Now that he wholly understood how Foxy was feeling his heart swelled. She was clever and protective and strong but beneath that armour she was just as afraid as he was. He watched her carefully; she swallowed and sat up straight. “All you and I want is to be safe. I can keep you safe.”

 

Her lips, smooth and full, twitched in the corners as if she wanted to smile. “I have kept myself safe so far. But I appreciate the sentiment.”

 

His hand was still covering hers and he didn’t want to separate them. It had only been a week since they’d first met but it felt like so much longer since so much had happened… Regardless of all of it he still liked her. She was beautiful and independent and loyal; when she chased him away and shut him out it had hurt.

 

She interrupted his thoughts. “I can see what you’re thinking.”

 

“What?” She could read minds?!

 

“It’s in your eyes. You’re either staring at mine or at my neck.” Her mouth turned up in a sly grin. “You’re not over me, huh?”

 

Sam felt blood rising in his cheeks and turned his eyes down on the table. Had he really been so obvious? Jeez… “Foxy… Do you think _we_ can be friends?”

 

She moved her hand away from his to top up her glass. “Ask me again when this bottle is empty.”


	18. Forgiven Or Used?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW :D

**Two empty wine bottles sat on the dining room table, one on its side after being knocked over.** No longer were Foxy and Sam sitting across from each other stiffly; the wine went down easy and the alcoholic buzz made their tongues loose with chatter. Foxy was reminded of all the reasons she had picked Sam in the first place… His goofy, charming smile and his loud laugh and his desire to make her smile. All of it came flooding back to her – along with the headrush of disorientation – as her inhibition ebbed away. She laughed along with him and suddenly they were just two lonely people again. The third wine bottle was on the living room floor, half-drained and now neglected, as they schmoozed on the couch.

 

She lay on top of him, her head on his chest, their legs entangled, and his fingers were lost in her hair as they talked. Foxy felt something like love growing within her; being single was nice, but spending time cuddling was even nicer. In this moment she loved Sam Winchester for holding her, for smelling good, for playing with her hair, and for paying attention to her. However she had a tendency to love many things fleetingly, so she knew that come morning she probably wouldn’t feel the same way.

 

“I want this to last forever,” she mumbled into his cotton t-shirt.

 

“Me too.” His breath pushed against her silky hair.

 

“Mm, I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

 

He chuckled quietly.

 

“How many women have you been with?” She knew she was drunk now; she wanted to know Sam’s intimate details.

 

“I dunno,” he muttered. “Like…slept with? Or dated?”

 

She shrugged. “Either.”

 

He tapped his fingers on her back to count. “I only dated two people… And I can’t count how many people I’ve slept with, but there have been a few over the years. At least seven or twelve.”

 

That wasn’t a satisfying answer.

 

“What about you?”

 

She hummed for a minute. “At least I remember all of them and their names…” she said under her breath, but she wasn’t one for slut-shaming when her best friend’s tally was uncountable, too. “I’ve dated like six guys and had sex with nine.”

 

“That’s a lot.”

 

She huffed. “Not really.” Suddenly she giggled. “Oh, wait, ten people.”

 

“What’s so funny?”

 

“Well…” She bit her lip. “I had sex with Vanessa last night.”

 

“Whoa!” Sam moved to sit up, so Foxy had to get off of him while he looked at her incredulously. “So…are you…” He vaguely waved his hands around to imply something.

 

“Together? Clearly not.” She furrowed her eyebrows. “We’re just friends, and right now she’s probably fucking Dean.”

 

“No, a lesbian!”

 

It took Foxy a second to process the question. “No… I’m bisexual,” she answered flatly.

 

“Oh.” He twiddled his thumbs as he stewed in his own awkwardness.

 

“It means I like penises _and_ vaginas,” she explained to him as if he were a small child.

 

“Yeah I know that,” he snipped, rolling his eyes. “So do you have threesomes and stuff?”

 

She shook her head. “No. And I’m not really interested. I like one person at a time.”

 

Sam squinted at her. “How old are you?”

 

“Twenty-five. How old are _you_?”

 

“Thirty-one.”

 

“Oh good,” she sighed, laughing at the joke she was about to make. “I was worried you were under eighteen for a second.”

 

“And why would you worry about that?” His tone was coy and his smile was fiendish. In the pit of her stomach she felt the familiar, heavy warmth of arousal. She sprung forward and planted and kiss on his lips – she didn’t have time for witty banter, and the wine made her want him. Her kisses were probably sloppy but she didn’t give a shit; he was kissing her back and sneaking his hand under her shirt. He forced his tongue into her mouth and she let him. His breath was hot and moist and he tasted of wine.

 

“Mmm,” he hummed and she lost all restraint. When a man moaned it melted her in all the right places. She undid the button on her jeans and grabbed one of his hands, guiding it between her legs. With only thin silk between his fingers and her swelling clit she shivered and grasped one of his solid shoulders for balance. They continued to make out, tongues and lips moving together and enhancing her need. His fingers went to work immediately, almost expertly, and she saw red.

 

“Ahh,” she gasped, reaching for his jeans. Her hand brushed his erection and she was delighted to feel how _endowed_ he was…

 

Foxy felt like she was on fire. She didn’t take the time to stroke Sam’s cock like she should have; instead she stood up and threw her pants and panties to the floor. Sam eagerly followed suit and bent her over the couch. He pressed the tip of his cock into her.

 

“Oh fucking Christ,” he gasped.

 

She moaned and hummed as Sam had to slowly push his way into her; the feeling of expanding around him was ecstatic and her legs weakened.

 

Suddenly Sam slapped her ass and grabbed her hips hard. His fingers dug into her skin as he started thrusting in and out of her, growling. It was all Foxy could do to stay standing; she held on to the back of the couch for support. Her eyes rolled up as Sam reached under her to flick her clit. A wave of violent pleasure rocked through her.

 

“Oh my _god!_ ” she cried, which made Sam fuck her harder, which made her cry louder. She wanted it deeper, she wanted it harder, she wanted it faster… She wanted him to _own her_. Words abandoned her and all she could do was howl incoherently. He kept rubbing her… She wanted him to stop, she didn’t want to finish so soon, but it felt _so good_ …

 

He stopped fingering her and grasped her hips again, growling louder with every thrust until he uttered a soft, “Ohhh…” and leaned over her, panting and shuddering. After a moment he pulled out and kissed her back.

 

But Foxy wasn’t finished with him yet. She was still horny as hell. She lay on the couch with her legs wide open and began to play with herself. She could feel Sam’s cum leaking out of her but she didn’t care as she dove two fingers inside. She smiled as Sam stared down at her in shock.

 

“I still want some,” she whispered to him.

 

He kneeled between her legs, watching her with a mixture of awe and amusement. There weren’t any lights on, so all she could see was his silhouette from the streetlight outside. His dick was still hard so he started to stroke himself in time with her, which was hot as _fuck_. She was already close and he was so _sexy_ …

 

“Finger me,” she gasped, and he obliged with one hand still pleasing himself. As he toyed with her G-spot with the classic ‘come here’ motion Foxy felt like she was ascending to Heaven. She moved to circle her clit with her fingers and she felt like she was on the edge of a cliff… Below her was an ocean… All she had to do was fall…

 

“ _Yes, Sam!_ ” she screamed as she bucked her hips. She heard the same quiet cry from before and as she was rocked with her orgasm he came.

 

The tips of her fingers and the tips of her toes tingled and a happy high clouded her mind. It was an eternity before either of them spoke; Sam leaned down and kissed her forehead.

 

“Wow,” she said weakly, her eyes still closed.

 

He laughed, nuzzling his nose in her hair. “Yeah.” He moved away and she heard his footsteps leave the room.

 

“Where did you go?” she called, awakening from her bliss.

 

“To get toilet paper.”

 

She looked down at her body and realized that yes there was indeed semen on her stomach. Normally she found it disgusting when men with whom she wasn’t in a relationship jizzed on her but hell she was drunk and was feeling really good. He returned with the roll of toilet paper from the bathroom and wiped her off before lying beside her. His head rested on her chest and his arm reached over her hips.

 

“You’re really good at that,” she murmured.

 

“Good enough to keep me around?”

 

She smiled and put her fingers in his hair. “Maybe.”

 

“I think you have great tits.” His words slurred together with fatigue.

 

She snorted. “Thanks.” Sleepiness washed over her, too, and she drifted into sweet sleep.

 

\--

 

“WHAT THE FUCK!”

 

Foxy jolted awake at the sound of yelling and saw her brother in the foyer, standing with plastic bags in his hands and his eyes bulging out of his face. Sam was at her side and memories from the night before came back to her. She squealed and curled into a ball, trying to cover herself up.

 

Buck stomped into the kitchen. “Put some _motherfucking_ clothes on!” he hollered.

 

Foxy glanced at Sam who stared back in horror. They leapt up to grab their clothes, scattered around the room. Foxy’s brain desperately tried to come up with what to tell Buck but she came up blank. She was about to get her head ripped off.

 

 


	19. Priorities

**There was a magic to the word ‘family’ that bound people together.** They loved and supported each other and as long as they were family that was it. Buck was five years older than Foxy; ever since they were small he had looked out for her first. He kept the bullies away and taught her how to fend for herself. It was when she hit puberty that he lost the little sister he had been protecting; he didn’t know how to save her from a broken heart.

 

And now she was naked from the waist down on the couch with a murderer. Buck was frozen with shock as he took in all of the clothes scattered on the floor, the toilet paper, and a bottle of wine.

 

_He drugged her._

 

No, that couldn’t be right. Foxy had _let_ him into the house and drank with him; he was welcomed.

 

_How could she do this to me?_

 

“WHAT THE FUCK!” he roared, startling them awake. Foxy immediately tried to hide herself but Sam’s nudity was exposed in all its glory. Buck clenched his jaw and went to the kitchen to drop the groceries on the counter. “Put some _motherfucking_ clothes on!”

 

He leaned against the counter and glared at the doorway, waiting for the happy couple to come through. After a minute Foxy walked in. Sam hovered a few feet away. Buck examined her messy hair. “What is he doing in this house?”

 

Foxy played with a strand of hair between her fingers, her signature move for when she felt guilty. “I invited him in last night.”

 

“So you saw Vanessa in Dean’s apartment,” he seethed, “yell all the way home and tell me you want to be alone, all to end up like this?”

 

She didn’t answer him; instead, she turned to Sam. “You should leave.”

 

“He shouldn’t have been here in the first place,” Buck growled.

 

Sam looked at her, then at him. Buck only scowled; no Winchester was worth his breath. Sam collected his coat and boots and left without a word. As the door closed Foxy sighed.

 

“I know how this looks,” she began but Buck cut her off.

 

“How this looks? What explanation could you possibly have for me?” he exclaimed.

 

“He… Listen, Buck, he wanted to talk and I didn’t want to fight.”

 

“No, you wanted to fuck.” He clenched his hands into fists. “You don’t get to ‘listen, Buck’ me. Mama Nia called to tell me to help defend you and this town against the Winchesters. Do you understand that is the worst phone call I could get? I drove four hours to get here, hoping that you weren’t already in the thick of it, and this is what I get in return?”

 

He stared at her unblinkingly but she didn’t say anything.

 

“I can’t help you if you are sleeping with them. That is something I cannot do – nor do I want to. If you want to go behind my back – our _family’s_ back – and play out some fantasy with them then no one is going to stop you. But you’ve betrayed us. You have betrayed every innocent soul murdered by hunters.”

 

“They have committed unforgivable crimes against non-humans but–”

 

“Don’t _defend_ them,” he spat. “A charming smile and biceps shouldn’t deceive my sister. I thought you were smarter than that.”

 

“Says the guy who–”

 

Her outburst was interrupted by a distant thunder-like rumble. Both siblings paused to listen; never in their lifetime had thunder in January ever been a good sign. It was unnatural and always an omen of evil at work. Buck locked eyes with Foxy. They knew they had to set aside their fight to investigate.

 

Buck, still dressed in jacket and boots, marched outside. Foxy followed but had to stop to dress herself. The fresh air was rigid with electricity and smelled of burned rubber. Humans wouldn’t be able to detect the difference in atmosphere, but it would only be a matter of time before something would disturb the surrounding communities.

 

Foxy stepped out and froze on the porch, her hand over her nose. “That’s disgusting.” She had much sharper senses than Buck.

 

He nodded. “Have you felt anything like it?”

 

“No… Only during a thunderstorm.”

 

“Hm.” It was unsettling. Their clan had encountered many non-humans, and Buck had chased away more when he moved away. Yet neither of them could identify what was lurking. The static in the air raised the hairs on his neck and arms and made him feel agitated.

 

Another rippling _boom_ sounded and his ears directed him to the northeast. But there was another quaking noise from the completely opposite direction, southwest.

 

“There’s more than one,” Foxy said, her voice shaking. “Should we go?”

 

Buck’s first instinct was to go back into the house. Everything in his body was screaming _RUN_. “I think this is too much for us.”

 

“Should we call Mama?”

 

“We should call whoever we can.”

 

 


	20. Disaster Mends Broken Relationships

**It was the third time.** Honestly Vanessa was getting tired of it. The second time Foxy called she had tossed her phone under the bed; it didn’t matter what she had to say. Vanessa wasn’t sorry for making amends with Dean and she didn’t want to talk about it.

 

“Just turn it off,” Dean groaned.

 

“It’s ruining the mood, isn’t it?” Lying in bed under warm blankets beside a topless Dean had been soothing. His skin was smooth and warm and tempting; he held her against his chest. If her phone stopped going off she would be in her happy place. She reached around the underside of the bed and found the iPhone. Instead of turning it off she put it on silent.

 

“I should check if she left a message,” she sighed.

 

“Or you should come back to sleep.” Dean’s morning voice was gruff and heavy. Vanessa loved it.

 

“In a second.”

 

She put the phone to her ear and Foxy’s urgent voice came through. _“I know you’re ignoring my calls. I’m not really eager to talk to you either. Did you hear thunder this morning? Well it’s a problem. Buck and I are trying to get as much help as we can. We need your help and maybe Dean’s, too. So call me back or come over ASAP. This is important.”_

 

Vanessa rolled over to face Dean. “Listen.” She replayed the message for him and his eyes widened.

 

“We have to call Sam.”

 

They got out of bed and got dressed. Vanessa put her hair up in a messy ponytail while Dean dialed his brother’s number.

 

“Sammy. Foxy called and–” He paused. “You know? We’re coming to your place. Wait, Cas is there?! When were you going to tell me?! Whatever, we’ll see you there.”

 

“Who’s Cas?” Vanessa balanced against the wall as she shoved her boots on.

 

“Friend of ours. C’mon.”

 

They rushed downstairs and out to the parking lot. Vanessa headed over to her Camry and Dean to his Neon. Before pulling out of the lot she begrudgingly sent Foxy a text. _On our way._

 

If Foxy hadn’t barged into Dean’s apartment building then they wouldn’t be fighting. Vanessa would have explained everything. But her friend crossed a line and she wasn’t going to tolerate that sort of invasion of her privacy. She was still steaming by the time she parked in front of Foxy’s house.

 

She entered without knocking and found blondie pacing in the living room. Her hair was unbrushed and her clothes were wrinkled. When she spotted Vanessa she stopped.

 

“I, uh…”

 

Vanessa shook her head. “I came because you needed help. Nothing else.” Duke came padding up to her and she scratched behind his ears.

 

“No, listen, I slept with Sam last night and I’m sorry I blew up at you.”

 

“What?! I thought you hated his guts!”

 

“Yeah well things are very complicated. Buck isn’t happy. He left to round up some friends.” Foxy sighed. “I don’t think there’s been this much drama in my life since the beginning of college.”

 

Vanessa walked over and pulled her into a hug. “I’m still mad but you need a hug.”

 

Foxy hugged back tightly. “You bet I do. Where’s Dean?”

 

Vanessa stepped back to look out the window. “He’s at Sam’s. He’ll be over soon. What’s going on?”

 

“That’s just it. We aren’t sure.” Foxy started pacing again, twining and untwining her fingers with worry. “Buck and I heard this loud thundering this morning, three times, but it couldn’t have been thunder. It was something else.”

 

“You know that there can be thunder in winter, right?” A familiar, booming voice was suddenly in the room with them as Sam, Dean, and a stranger walked in. “Thunder-sleet and thunder-snow and such.”

 

Vanessa saw Foxy appraise them with distaste before changing her expression to neutral. She didn’t like it when people forgot their manners. “Thanks, meteorologist Sam Winchester.” She rolled her eyes. “We heard it in the northeast and the southwest. Thunder doesn’t move from place to place, and I don’t see two storms converging. Do you?”

 

Sam shook his head.

 

“We’ve never encountered anything like this, and it sounded really strong whatever it was. Buck has left to gather friends and family so we have numbers on our side.”

 

“So this is the woman you were with last night?” The stranger spoke out, looking at Foxy. Vanessa couldn’t believe what she just heard – how rude!

 

Sam cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. Castiel, meet Foxy and Vanessa. Foxy and Vanessa, this is Castiel, an ‘angel of the lord’,” he introduced, drawing air quotes.

 

Castiel looked at Sam in confusion before looking at the women. “What strange names.”

 

“You’re one to talk,” Vanessa said reproachfully.

 

“You’ll have to excuse him,” Dean interjected, “he’s not the most socially aware. He’s literally an angel.”

 

Foxy walked over to Castiel and touched his shoulder. “You smell like slush and mint. What can angels do?”

 

He looked at her hand as though he’d never been touched by someone before. “I have many powers.”

 

Foxy glanced back at Vanessa with tight lips; she was about to start giggling. Castiel was a very awkward individual. Luckily, to prevent the outburst, Foxy’s phone rang. She walked into the kitchen out of view. Vanessa stepped towards the three men.

 

“How was your little powwow?”

 

“ _Dragons?_ Are you _shitting_ me?”

 

Everyone turned towards the exclamation from the other room. Dean and Sam both dropped their jaws – this didn’t sound good.

 

 


	21. Meet The Fam

**Foxy ended her phone call and stared at the kitchen wall.** It wasn’t as though gwyllgi were well known; her kind typically kept to themselves. But dragons? When had anyone seen a dragon in their lifetime? What did anyone know about dragons?!

 

Another ominous, resounding rumble came from the southwest.

 

Well now she had to go face the rest of the group. Surely they had heard her yell in surprise…

 

Foxy, though well-versed in the background of many creatures, knew nothing of dragons. Her clan hadn’t passed down any knowledge to her and any search for lore would drive anyone in circles. Did they live in the mountains? The sea? The desert? Could they breathe fire or venom or ice…? That’s without mentioning wyverns!

 

All eyes turned on her as she entered the living room; she could feel their nerves.

 

“I just got off the phone with my cousin Joey,” she began. “He has a talent for sifting through obscure information… He tells me that we have a case of the dragons. Specifically dragons being summoned.”

 

“Summoned?” It bothered Foxy that Dean wasn’t the brightest. This clarifying question was unnecessary.

 

She tried not to roll her eyes. “You know how you tried to enslave Death? Yeah, someone is trying to do that to dragons. It goes without saying that this could end very badly.”

 

“But what would they trap dragons for?” Even Sam, a Stanford student, asked a lot of stupid questions.

 

 _There are no such thing as stupid questions…_ She threw her hands in the air. “Joey and others are coming down here. Until then we sit tight.”

 

“Sit tight?” Dean’s jaw clenched. “We just _wait_?”

 

Foxy crossed her arms and stared at him with cold eyes and tight lips. “Unless you have a better idea then yes that is precisely what we are going to do.” Her voice turned to ice. “I know nothing about dragons. No one here knows anything about dragons. If we run out, unprepared, looking to save the world we will end up dead or worse. You brothers may have come back from the dead a couple dozen times but I don’t want to risk it.”

 

No one argued with her.

 

How dumb were these men? Sure they knew how to shoot a gun and swing a pointy stick but did they ever stop to strategize? Letting emotions take over was a recipe for catastrophe; some of Foxy’s family had died that way. So she wasn’t up for rushing into battle hollering a war cry. Stealth and patience was her game.

 

“Buck went out to Mississauga. Not everyone in my clan will come help us but we should have at least five others.”

 

“Five,” Dean scoffed.

 

She began to feel anger pulsing through her. “Shut the fuck up, Winchester,” she spat coldly.

 

“Your eyes!” Vanessa pointed at her face with fright.

 

Foxy shook her head, trying to calm herself down. “It’s fine, V.” She rubbed her temples with the tips of her fingers. It was never this difficult to work with her own family!

 

Castiel tugged on Dean’s sleeve. “Listen, I c–”

 

Just then the front door opened, its still-broken hinges screeching in protest.­­ Buck pushed through, carrying two large duffel bags. Following him was a tall, athletic brunette in stilettos, a mini skirt, and crop top with a fur shawl draped over her shoulder. She turned to look at the crowd, revealing one half of her face was entirely covered in a tattoo of black leopard spots. Behind her was a shorter, stouter young woman in a more practical outfit: jeans, running shoes, and a pink cotton sweater.

 

The brunette strolled into the room and briefly hugged Foxy, who felt very short, even though she was at least 5’7 herself. “God, you should have called first,” she said with clear distaste. “I was getting ready for a trip to Niagara and I had to call my Daddy to cancel. He wasn’t happy.”

 

Foxy raised an eyebrow. “It’s good to see you, too, Lilac. I’m sorry about your sugar daddy.”

 

She flipped her ponytail and strutted towards the stairs. “Yeah, yeah.”

 

Both Winchesters followed her with their eyes. How rude!

 

The other woman was shier. She twirled her turquoise hair in her fingers. Foxy came up and put an arm around her. “I admire you for putting up with her 24/7.”

 

She shrugged. “You know, you tune her out after a while.”

 

Foxy kissed the top of her head. “Bee, this is Sam, Dean, Castiel, and Vanessa,” she introduced.

 

Bee nodded at them. “I would say it’s a pleasure but under the circumstances it isn’t really.”

 

“I have a couple of spare rooms upstairs so you can nab one and set yourself up. Joey, Dawn, and Sirius are on their way.”

 

Bee grabbed both duffel bags from the hallway. “Who is Joey?”

 

“Oh! Canus changed his name when he moved.”

 

Bee pursed her lips but didn’t say anything.

 

Foxy faced the Original Four again. Buck joined her side, knowing what was coming next.

 

“Okay we need a game plan,” she started. It looked like Sam was going to interrupt but she silenced him with a glance. “All of these people are Buck’s and my cousins. We moved relatively close to each other – everyone else is up in Kenora District. Buttfuck Nowhere,” she clarified. “Joey, also known as Canus depending on who you talk to, is the best with information. He will tell us more about dragons, how they’re summoned, and who might want to do that. Everyone will listen to me.” She stared pointedly at the Winchesters and the angel. “I like organization and I don’t like my family and friends dying.”

 

Buck squared his shoulders beside her. “Foxy is easily the cleverest person in this room. We will all have a role to play and hers is The Boss. Do we all understand?”

 

Vanessa nodded vigorously. Her eyes were so wide they looked like they would pop out of her head. Castiel looked to the brothers; Sam shrugged and looked to Dean, who ground his teeth. “Fine.”

 

Lilac interrupted. “So who are these clowns?”

 

Foxy had hoped no one would ask. “Uh, it’s a long story. Sam and Dean Winchester with their angel friend Castiel.”

 

Lilac’s jaw dropped. “What th–”

 

“ _I said it’s a long story._ ”

 

This whole operation was going to be a nightmare.

 

 


	22. Sorting Everything Out

**A lanky man sat on the couch peering intensely at a MacBook on his lap.** He hadn’t said a word to Dean since he arrived – nor had anyone else. The others were either chit-chattering in the kitchen or on the second floor sorting out sleeping arrangements. Dean sat in the armchair, feeling extremely out of place.

 

“Dean.” Castiel stood like an uncomfortable statue beside him. “Dragons are celestial beings and I can’t be near them.”

 

“What do you mean you can’t be near them?”

 

“They will kill me.” Castiel’s hard blue eyes were unblinking. “Dragons are beasts of the Power of Life. They are outside of God’s control.”

 

Dean leaned forward. “What, so you’re going to up and leave?”

 

Castiel fidgeted with a stray thread on his coat. “I still have to restore order to Heaven.”

 

Dean shot up and faced him. “Dragons and whatever else out there could kill me, too,” he seethed. “You have been trying to get Heaven back the way it used to be for years. Why don’t you do something fucking useful with yourself?”

 

Those pathetic blue eyes were so sad, pleading with his own… Dean turned away. Cas was a brother almost as dear to him as Sam, and of course Dean didn’t necessarily want him to risk his life, but all of them were risking their lives. If Cas couldn’t stand with him, then maybe he wasn’t the brother Dean thought he was…

 

This thought made his heart ache.

 

“ ** _EVERYONE COME HERE!_** ” the man on the couch suddenly hollered. All eleven people crowded into the room, their chatter ceasing like someone had turned off a tap.

 

Dean looked at the oddball collection of figures; none of them really looked related. Dawn was petite, Sirius was huge and bulky, Bee was chubby, Lilac was almost as tall as he was, Foxy was thin, Joey was gangly, Buck was…well, he looked too ordinary for this crowd. It was weird.

 

Joey took a long last look at the computer screen in front of him. “Okay. Dragons are tied to different elements: fire, water, air, and earth. It isn’t great that we don’t know which type we’re dealing with but there are workarounds. Someone, likely a demon, is performing powerful dark magic to enslave them. Foxy mentioned that she heard thunderous sounds this morning; that is the sound of dragons fighting back, and since we haven’t heard anything since we can assume that this person was successful. The mythology says that having dragons under control gives you the ability to command the laws of the universe. I can’t give any credibility to that, but dragons certainly do possess ancient powers like traveling through time or destroying and creating matter.”

 

The hairs on the back on Dean’s neck stood up. This was unfamiliar territory.

 

“So what do we do?” Foxy raised her chin with confidence. Dean felt like knocking her down a few pegs; she acted calm and in control but she wasn’t the boss. He worked alone with Sam; safety in numbers was a myth.

 

Joey referred back to the Mac. “Killing whoever is doing it won’t stop the process since the dragons will be linked to his or her spirit. We need to sever the connection. Lucky for us we have a witch on our side!”

 

“Okay but I don’t know anything,” Vanessa protested, but Joey shook his head,

 

“Don’t worry about it. You’ll have help. We will also need…three beech branches and salt water. The branches have to be placed on the ground in a triangle with Vanessa in the middle. She holds the salt water in her hands and curses the summoner.”

 

“Just like that?”

 

Joey shook his head. “That’s all you have to do. But we need to throw salt water at the summoner before you curse them; that’s why the rest of us are here. We are the muscle.”

 

Dean barked out a laugh since, with the exception of Buck, Foxy, Lilac, and Sirius, none of them seemed very strong. He felt eyes bore through him, but before anyone could say anything Foxy stepped forward.

 

“Now we know what we are meant to do we need to get organized. This person needs to be found and attacked and Vanessa needs help to get a spell together. All the while, this evil-doer has dragons roaming the place and we don’t know what kind and we don’t know how many. Buck and I will lead two search groups; I will take Bee, Sirius, and Sam to look north of here and Buck will take Lilac, Dawn, and Castiel to look south. Joey, Vanessa, and Dean will go down to the ravine and find a birch tree and start getting this curse ready. Each–”

 

“Hey!” Dean furrowed his brow and stood up. “I don’t want to be stuck here with the gardening team.”

 

“If you don’t like what I say then you can march right back to Asten and sit this one out!” Foxy exclaimed. Her eyes, already turning from green to muddy red from earlier, flashed crimson. “I thought we had an understanding around who was in charge here.”

 

Dean looked at Sam, who shrugged. _Gee, thanks_. He glared at Foxy. She was punishing him.

 

“Each of our groups will take a walkie-talkie,” she continued in a growl. “That way we won’t be fiddling with cell phones. Everybody clear?”

 

No one protested.

 

“Bee, Sirius, Sam, go up to my room and I’ll meet you up there.”

 

Everyone scattered into their own little teams; within a minute it was only Vanessa, Joey, Foxy, and him in the room. The blonde strutted over to him and leaned up to his ear, her breath tickling him.

 

“I’m keeping you near her so you can keep an eye on her,” she whispered before disappearing up the stairs.

 

Oh. Dean looked at Vanessa; she was scared and confused, her hazel eyes wide and her mouth turned down at the corners. She stood by the wall like she wanted to sink into it. He walked towards her and put his arm around her shoulders.

 

“It’s gonna be fine.”

 

She nodded mutely as he guided her to the couch where Joey was Googling away.

 

 


	23. Mêlée

**Never had such terror coursed through him.** Crouched low between two houses Sam mourned the peaceful life he had wanted.

 

Foxy, with tears running down her cheeks, pulled the walkie-talkie from her back pocket. “Buck!” she called.

 

“Oh my god, Foxy,” came the relieved reply. “Are you okay?”

 

Sam could see it took considerable effort for her to maintain composure. He pulled her into his side as she corresponded. “Sirius and Bee are dead. The dragons are here and they caught us by surprise.”

 

There was a brief silence. It was hard to stay sane with their bodies lying less than fifty feet away, mangled and bloody in the street.  Even if they were in their true form and may have been mistaken for dogs, he had seen them fight in vain against the massive talons that came down on them. Foxy had dragged him between the houses where they hid now where they hoped the titanic monsters wouldn’t catch them.

 

“Where are you? We’re coming.”

 

“Armstrong Drive. Be careful. They’re… They’re too strong. Stay out of sight.”

 

They were so strong. The dragon that had swooped from the heavens was massive, the size of a transport truck, its mottled green scales glinting in the harsh winter sunlight. It had come down silently and snatched the lives of Bee and Sirius as they writhed and struggled… It carried them high in the sky and dropped them. The sickening sound of their bodies crashing to the asphalt rang in his ears and threatened to bring bile up from his stomach.

 

Foxy was clearly shaken. As she leaned against Sam she trembled violently, likely with a mixture of rage, fear, and revulsion.

 

There was nothing either of them could say.

 

“ _ANGEL!_ ” The deep cry ripped through the sky like a comet.

 

With the sound of swooping wings Castiel was suddenly in the street before them, briefly looking at the broken corpses before stepping towards the pair huddling together in the shadows.

 

“ _I CAN SMELL YOU, ABOMINATION._ ”

 

His eyes were wide and his breath came in short bursts. Crouching down to Sam’s level he raised the walkie-talkie to his lips. “I have found them. They are exposed.”

 

“ _YOU CANNOT HIDE FROM US._ ”

 

“Cas, what the hell is going on?” Sam demanded in a low voice.

 

He glanced at the sky in fear. “Dragons hate God,” he said simply. “Have you located the summoner?”

 

“They’re upwind of us.” Foxy’s voice was hoarse and quiet. “I can smell a demon a little ways away.”

 

Cas touched the water bottle attached to his hip – everyone had an identical bottle in case any of them got close enough to throw the salt water needed to complete the curse. “I will lead the dragons away from you.”

 

“No!” Foxy shouted but he was already gone. She stared at Sam in horror.

 

He grabbed her arm. “We have a demon to take care of.”

 

 


	24. For Dean

**It had been centuries since dragons had been heard from.** They lived in seclusion in the wilderness, detesting all of the world, for they had existed long before God. Castiel heard frightening tales of dragons hunting down his brothers and sisters but was lucky enough to never encounter one.

 

Until now.

 

Heaven was their haven, safe from their reign. Without it they were sitting ducks. And now a demon figured it all out. And now they were doomed.

 

No. _They_ weren’t doomed – _he_ was.

 

The dragon’s clear voice rent the air. “ _YOU HAVE LITTLE CHANCE AGAINST ME, GODLING._ ”

 

Castiel lurked under a small cluster of trees in a park. It would be easy to dance around the town as a distraction but the dragon would lose interest and chase easier prey – Sam and Dean’s friends. It was important they succeeded in their mission.

 

And Dean was right. Castiel had to do something useful.

 

A gigantic shadow fell across the park and the dragon came to the ground, making the tree branches shudder with the impact. Its scales were a mixture of light and dark green in various patterns, but they were almost impossible to look at as they reflected sunlight almost as well as a mirror. Its yellow-gold eye fixed keenly and firmly on Castiel with the sureness of a villain capturing a hero.

 

Like a mouse under a hawk’s gaze, Castiel felt he couldn’t move.

 

The dragon rumbled deep in his chest, then opened its maw to unleash a torrent of clear-yellow venom. Castiel turned to run but it was too late; he loosed a bloodcurdling scream.

 

The Winchesters had died for one another countless times and he wasn’t afraid.

 

For Dean.

 

 


	25. This Is What Useless Feels Like

**Vanessa stood in the triangle of beech sticks in Foxy’s living room.** Under her feet was a drawing of a pentagram and in her hands was a piece of paper that Joey had given her with words she didn’t understand. Her throat was tight and parched.

 

Joey was nice enough. Tall and lanky with shaggy brown hair and warm brown eyes he comforted her by talking a lot.

 

“…so you and your ancestors are the only ones with access to magic exclusively through Latin,” he was saying as he sat in front of his MacBook again. “No one else has the powers you do. It’s really neat.”

 

She nodded mutely, turning her eyes to Dean, who was pacing in front of the window. He was worried. She felt bad that he had to babysit her.

 

Loud, screeching static suddenly came from the walk-talkie on the coffee table and they all jumped. The screeching came again, then words: “Does anybody know where Foxy is?!”

 

Vanessa’s heart leapt into her mouth.

 

“I see her! She’s running… She’s telling us to move out! GO! RUN! Vanessa that’s your cue!”

 

Joey pointed wildly at Vanessa and the paper. “Read!”

 

She dropped her eyes to the paper and the scramble of letters that didn’t mean anything and yet meant everything. Her voice was neither shaky nor tentative as she recited the curse that would save them all.

 

“ _vires Salvo_

_Et quondam vincti liberabantur ab antiquis magicae_

_Ad evidentiam eorum quae fuerunt in veteri lege_

_Perverto reus universi_

_Agat in stellis magia_

_Sinite hoc malum carceres_

_Ad exprobrandum enim natura est de poena_

_Et vere deliqui, et ut_

_Mihi per eum corrumpere,_

_in_ aeternum _!_ ”

 

As she spoke, her fingertips tingled and the hair on her arms stood but when she finished nothing was different. She lowered the paper and glanced nervously at both men. They stared back at her.

 

All they could do was hope it worked.

 

 


	26. Tallying The Losses

 

 **Foxy didn’t look at the demon properly.** She saw him looking at the sky with a scroll in his hand, a pack by his feet. The acrid scent emanating from him was enough to tell her he was the culprit. He turned to her as she sprinted directly at him, but she’d already twisted the lid from her water bottle and hurled the water that would send him to his end in his face. He shrieked and doubled over, so Foxy took the opportunity to tear southward where she would find Sam and her cousins.

 

Buck appeared in the street and, using all of her breath to run, she waved at him to follow her and get the hell out of there. He spoke into the walkie-talkie and did, ushering Lilac and Dawn to come. Sam was watching from the sidewalk and Foxy slowed as she reached him.

 

“Did you–”

 

“Vanessa should be finishing him this very second,” she panted.

 

All five of them turned and looked at the top of the hill where the demon had perched; he recovered from the initial shock of salt water and straightened to look for his attacker. Foxy’s heart pounded as his eyes fixed on her, but he immediately crumpled to the ground in a plume of pungent, brown smoke.

 

The dragons tore the sky apart with their bellows. The group started as the pair rose into the sky – one from the north and one from the west – and their dark silhouettes climbed thousands of feet so they were no more than sparrow-sized specks.

 

Sam was the first to speak. “We need to find Cas.”

 

Foxy nodded. “And…Sirius and Bee…” She was turned towards Sam so she wouldn’t see Dawn’s nor Lilac’s faces contort with grief. Dawn was Sirius’ sister, and Lilac lived with Bee. She couldn’t imagine what that kind of loss would feel like.

 

Buck touched her shoulder. “Take Sam with your car.”

 

Without another word Foxy grabbed Sam’s hand and they headed back to Armstrong Drive, where they had abandoned the VW to take up the hunt. Adrenaline was still flowing through her veins, putting her on edge. The danger may have passed but soon her emotions would tangle themselves in her brain. Recovering from momentous events was never her strong point. A few stiff drinks were needed.

 

It took all of her willpower to ignore the bodies of her cousins when they rounded the corner. She hopped in the driver’s seat and took off with a jerky stomp on the accelerator.

 

They had heard the green dragon stalk Castiel, but there was no way to pinpoint where.

 

“If I were an angel, where would I be…” Sam murmured.

 

They continued slowly down the street without a clue until they made a left. A children’s park was all gouged up on one end. Foxy knew the familiar mark of claws digging in the ground. Without a word she braked – almost forgetting the put the car in park – and jumped out of the car with Sam already at her side.

 

If there was a confrontation…

 

Foxy was afraid for Sam. She didn’t want him to lose anyone like she did.

 

As they jogged across the street it was clear that no one was here. _No one alive…_ She exiled those grim thoughts from her mind.

 

A giant scorch mark covered the grass in the outline of feathered wings, in the centre of which was a pile of tattered clothes. His clothes.

 

Sam didn’t say anything, only pausing to digest the sight before gathering the pants, shirt, tie, shoes, and trench coat together in his arms. Then he wordlessly turned back to the car.

 

 


	27. I Didn't Mean It

**Dean embraced Vanessa tightly, a broad grin stretching across his face.**

 

“You did it, kiddo!”

 

Vanessa relaxed in his arms and wrapped her arms around him. They stood like that for several seconds; then her shoulders began to shake and she let out small gasps of ragged breaths and rasping sobs. He held her closely, caressing her hair.

 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she gasped, pulling away and wiping her eyes. She cleared her throat self-consciously.

 

He leaned down and kissed her lips, and then her forehead. “We’re safe,” he said quietly.

 

Joey, however, who was still in the room, was not nearly so cheerful. He stared out the bay window with apprehension, waiting for the others to return. Two people had died and he was likely beginning to grieve them.

 

The sound of a car engine broke the silence in the house. The three of them eagerly turned to the front hall; it seemed time was suspended.

 

The door opened and Duke – locked in Foxy’s bedroom – barked. His owner came through and stood hesitantly in the doorway, then stepped forward. Sam followed with a bundle.

 

That bundle looked awfully familiar.

 

In fact, Dean knew what it was before the reality hit him.

 

Sam’s blank expression said it all.

 

Dean lost all feeling in his legs. “No…” He walked to his brother and placed a hand on that old trench coat. “No…”

 

_I didn’t mean it. I didn’t want him to die. He should have left. He should have gone. I shouldn’t have told him to stay. He’s gone. It’s my fault. I didn’t mean it I didn’t mean it I didn’t mean it._

 

Sam gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

 

Suddenly he was hollow and empty.

 

 


	28. Paying Respects

**All eight of them sat in a circle on the living room floor passing around a bottle of whiskey, as was tradition.** In the yard burned the vessels of Sirius and Bee and Castiel’s clothes – except for the coat, which Foxy knew Dean had taken. Joey had Vanessa place a spell that would allow the fire to burn bright and hot without smelling like burning carcasses; they didn’t need a visit from the cops, not tonight.

 

Foxy sat between Sam and Vanessa, one hand on each of their legs. Everyone had hugged already and expressed how they were grateful no one else was hurt. Now was recovery. Already Foxy could feel the alcohol flooding her blood and helping her accept the deaths of her family members. She would be okay. They would be okay. They were alive. Similar expressions were mirrored on the faces around her, except for Dean’s. His heart was broken.

 

“We should call Mama Nia,” Lilac said, pulling out her phone. “They would want to celebrate their lives under the stars tonight.”

 

Buck held out his hand. He always was the closest to the adults when they were young. As he dialed the number, Foxy leaned on Sam and closed her eyes. He smelled nice and was warm. He played with the ends of her hair in his fingers.

 

Buck put the phone on the floor on speakerphone.

 

“Hello, love!” came the kind, elderly voice.

 

“Mama, it’s the cousins. We’re together,” Buck replied, trying not to sound grim.

 

“Is everything okay?”

 

The question was absurd to all of us that they grinned darkly to each other. Buck shook his head before answering. “It has been a tough day, and it’s a long story.”

 

“Then I would like to hear it sometime. Why are you calling?”

 

“Bee and Sirius have been killed.”

 

A long silence extended on the other end of the phone. “I knew it when Foxy called those Winchesters would hurt our family.”

 

“No, Mama, they didn’t hurt us. It was a demon. The Winchesters are fine.” He pointedly glared at Dean as a reminder of the truce.

 

“The Winchesters are fine,” Mama Nia repeated in a sarcastic tone. “This is a great loss,” she said somberly. “They were so young. I will bring the clan together at dusk for their farewell.”

 

“We are holding our own memorial here as well.”

 

“Buck, I wish you and your cousins would return to the wild north with us.”

 

Foxy felt Sam turn to look at her. Buck also locked eyes with her and the rest of the gwyllgi. “Perhaps one day, Mama.”

 

Foxy reached for the bottle, took a long swig, and sighed. Perhaps one day.


	29. Loose Ends

**She hummed while she cooked lately, swaying back and forth to her own music.** It was sweet and beautiful and comforting and Sam loved it. If he wasn’t doing the dishes he would hover in the doorway just to watch her. He didn’t know what prompted her to start doing it but he wasn’t complaining. Today, though, as he came in from The Barber, she wasn’t. He could hear the clattering of pots and pans as she pulled them out of drawers, but no voice. It made the house feel a bit empty.

 

Duke launched himself from the dining room to greet him with a sloppy tongue and wiggling body. He was almost impossible to push past, and normally Sam would stop to play with him, but he was curious about what was going on in the kitchen.

 

“Hey.”

 

Foxy turned and flashed him a wide smile. “Hi. How are you?”

 

“Alright. What’s for dinner?” He walked up behind her, sliding his hands around her waist and planting a kiss on the nape of her neck like he did every day.

 

“Chicken.” She broke away from him and walked across the kitchen to get a baking sheet. “Could you check the oven to make sure nothing’s in there?”

 

He opened the glass door and peered inside. There was something… He reached in and pulled out a hunk of bread.

 

“A dinner roll?”

 

Foxy stood facing him, flicking her eyes between him and the bread in his hand.

 

“Why was that in there?”

 

She didn’t respond, biting her lip.

 

He smiled, confused. “What? Why did you put a bun in the oven?” Bun. Bun in the oven. “ _Bun in the oven?!_ ”

 

She nodded, still biting her lip.

 

“ _You’re pregnant?_ Are you serious?” A myriad of emotions rotated through his head in split seconds – shock, confusion, frustration, dismay, fear…

 

She nodded again. Her expression was evolving from wary to apprehension; her mouth turned down in the corners and her vivid green eyes grew wide and she rubbed her palms together. “Look, I know it’s a surprise, but we can talk about it,” she began, words spilling from between her lips, “and there are plenty of options so–”

 

In the two years he’d know her, Sam had gotten used to Foxy’s various moods and tones. He knew when she was pleased or slightly pissed or tired or excited. But this was one he couldn’t bear. Her insecurity and disappointment.

 

He took a stride towards her and took her into his arms, burying her small form in his chest. He kissed the top of her head and stroked her hair. She tentatively hugged him back.

 

“What do you want?” he asked, his voice muffled in their embrace.

 

“What I want isn’t that important,” she replied quietly. “I mean if you don’t–”

 

“What do _you_ _want?_ ”

 

She leaned into him and took a deep shaky breath. “I want this.”

 

Sam pulled away an arm’s length, his hands on her shoulders. He gazed into her beautiful, gorgeous eyes. She was it; he’d never loved someone as much as he loved her. She was family. She was home. He felt his own eyes well up as he glanced down at her (still flat) stomach. “Okay,” he said enthusiastically. A lump formed in his throat. “Okay!”

 

Foxy’s mouth transformed into a timid smile and her eyes sparkled like his. “Okay?”

 

“We–” He coughed and laughed at the same time as emotion choked up him. His tears spilled over on his cheeks. “We’re going to be parents!”

 

They burst into laughter – and sobs – at the same time. This was amazing! And way over his head, but amazing!

 

Foxy wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Want to order pizza?” she giggled.

 

He pulled her close and kissed her once, twice before replying. “Yeah I think so.”

 

Still sniffing and chuckling, she picked up her cell phone from the counter. “We can’t tell anybody yet,” she warned.

 

“What, not even Dean?” He wanted to sprint to Dean’s house across town – which was also Vanessa’s – and drop the bomb. Like right away.

 

“No, not even Dean!” She put a hand over her belly as if she was already showing. “Just a couple of weeks.”

 

Sam ran his fingers through his hair. Wow. WOW! Wow. _Dad_. He shied away from the word – it felt so out of place when applied to him. But he was going to be one! A dad! Wow!!!

 

Foxy’s smile seemed permanently etched into her features. He was sure he looked just as thrilled. _Family_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! That's the last chapter!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading all the way through. I initially began writing this at supernaturalfanfiction.com, but the site went missing, so I hope that those that began reading it have found the ending. This is the first fanfic I have finished; the end might seem a bit rushed because I got a little impatient, but I am pleased with how it turned out! I hope you are, too. I might write more on these characters - we'll see.
> 
> xoxo
> 
> -ToW


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